o i 
 
 
 
 A Princess 
 
 of Paris. 
 
 ARCHIBALD CI \ RJ HUNTER
 
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 4
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS 
 
 a 
 
 BY 
 
 ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK,' "MR. POTTER OF TEXAS, 
 "THAT FRENCHMAN," " MISS NOBODY OF NOWHERE," 
 "MISS DIVIDENDS," "BARON MONTEZ, " ETC., ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE HOME PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 3 EAST FOURTEENTH STREET 
 1894.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1894, 
 BY A. C. GUNTER. 
 
 A II rights reserved. 
 
 THE WINTHROP PRESS, 
 
 52-54 LAFAYETTE PLACE, 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 8TOA9 
 
 rjt.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 COMRADES OF THE SWORD 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER I. The Lone Bastion at Friburg, 5 
 II. The Annals of a Soldier of Mis- 
 fortune, - 19 
 " III. The Duel by the Camp Fire, - 30 
 IV. Uncle Johnny, - 41 
 V. The One Chance of Life, 54 
 VI. The Mouse and the Lion, - 64 
 " VII. Look for All Things in Paris, - 76 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 THE SPECULATION IN BEAUTY. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. Cousin Charlie, - 89 
 
 IX. Poisson the Liar, - - 102 
 
 X. The Lieutenant of Police, - 113 
 
 XI. The Pie of the Prince de Conti, 123 
 
 2061811
 
 4 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. The Elopement from Des Capu- 
 
 cmes, - 135 
 
 XIII. The Siren's Song, - 142 
 
 " XIV. A French Lochinvar, - 151 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. The Birth of Modern Paris, - 160 
 
 " XVI. De Conti's Little Joke, -171 
 
 " XVII. The First Bal de 1'Opera, - 180 
 
 " XVIIL "A Note To-Morrow!" - - 191 
 " XIX. The Second Honeymoon of 
 
 O'Brien Dillon, - 203 
 Dillon at Home, - 215 
 XXL The First Masse Shot at Bil- 
 liards, - 223 
 XXII. A Night at the Francais, - 232 
 XXIII. The Friend of the Army, - 248 
 XXIV. The Water Fete at Marseilles, 259 
 XXV. "Together!" - - - 268
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS 
 
 BOOK I. 
 COMRADES OF THE SWORD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LONE BASTION AT FRIBURG. 
 
 "MONSIEUR LE COMTE, how many of us will come 
 back ?" whispers Lieutenant d'Essais. 
 
 " About our usual proportion one out of two. The 
 regiment of Laval is always lucky," laughs Raymond 
 d'Arnac, as he looks into the blindness of anight opaque 
 as chaos. 
 
 But in this darkness, he knows straight in front of 
 him lie the fortifications and strong works of the little 
 town of Friburg, manned by the German, crowned with 
 cannon and laden with death. 
 
 These works consist of walls of unusual thickness, 
 pierced by four sortie-gates, eight heavy bastions with 
 liemi-lunes protecting their curtains, and the usual cov- 
 ered-ways, escarpments and glacis peculiar to the method 
 of fortification invented by that first great master of artil- 
 lery attack and defense, Monsieur Vauban, the French 
 Engineer. 
 
 Beyond the walls are the mediaeval streets of the little 
 town of Friburg, and half a mile away, back of these, the 
 great mountain of Schlossberg, upon whose terraces, and 
 dominating all below them, stand four great forts; 
 first, the Castle, which commands the whole town; 
 above it, the Eagle Fort, which dominates the Castle; 
 higher up, the Star Fort, which commands the Eagle,
 
 6 A PRIXCKSS OF PARIS. 
 
 and crowning the summit, the Fort of St. Peter, which 
 dominates them all. On the terraces of this mountain 
 are military works contrived after the best possible man- 
 ner to resist 1 ho escalade and bombardment of that epoch 
 the year of our Lord 1713. 
 
 Within this series of strongholds is a garrison of 
 fifteen battalions of stout Austrian infantry and five 
 hundred semi-barbarous Hungarian horse. The whole 
 commanded by Baron de Arsch, one of the sturdiest 
 commanders of that stout time the entire affair making 
 one of the hardest military nuts M. le Due de Villars, 
 the Commander in Chief of his most Christian Majesty 
 Louis XlVth's armies on the Rhine and in Flanders, 
 ever had to crack. 
 
 Above all the thing must be done quickly, for just in 
 the distance are the mountains of the Black Forest, 
 famous in legend and story, and beyond them lies Prince 
 Eugene, Generalissimo of the German armies, biting 
 his nails with rage, and sending courier after courier to 
 ride their horses to death, imploring his Imperial Master 
 of Austria to hurry the troops en route from Italy to 
 re-inforce him; and post after post to the States General 
 and the Princes of tire German Empire, begging and 
 beseeching they will keep their promises of men and 
 money so he can take open field against his old enemy 
 De Villars, and not see pass from him by forced inactiv- 
 ity and lack of men, the conquests he had so gloriously 
 made in succeeding campaigns together with Church- 
 hill, Duke of Marlborough, and the English Army at 
 Blenheim, Ramillics and Oudenarde over the French. 
 
 Tliis town of Friburg DeVillars has been attempting for 
 the last thirty days, carrying his trenches forward, estab- 
 lishing his batteries and places d\i nnes, and battering with 
 siege artillery the stout walls, in front of him, until this 
 evening, the breach of Fort Escargo, the first bastion, 
 is reported practical, the assault ordered and the Forlorn 
 Hope detailed and 'ready one hundred and fifty of 
 the sturdy Grenadiers of Laval, at their head the two 
 boys, whose whispers are so low that they are unintelligi- 
 ble to their men ten feet to their rear. 
 
 For a moment these t\vo boys Lieutenant d'Essais 
 is but seventeen, and his captain, Raymond, le Comte 
 d'Arnac, scarce twenty peer into the darkness.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 7 
 
 Then Raymond tosses his blonde curls about and 
 laughs: "But if \ve come back, you will return a 
 captain, and I a major, my little D'Essais!" 
 
 "But so few of us come back !" mutters the boy lieuten- 
 ant. "Our regiment always gets the hottest places 
 now. Our Colonel, Le Marquis Laval, is disabled by a 
 broken jawbone, and a hundred and fifty is all that's left 
 of us. It was not so before you, D'Arnac, joined us 
 from Paris. Two months ago we lost no more than the 
 others; at that time Clancarthy's Irish Regiment was 
 getting the places nearest to Heaven or HeJl. There's 
 very few of them left also." 
 
 But here the Captain stops further remark by a 
 hastily muttered " Quiet! I want to place the location 
 of the works in my mind, D'Essais, so I'll know our 
 route in the dark when we make the assault!" 
 
 And Raymond d'Arnac peers out into the darkness 
 again, and seeing nothing, imagines Friburg as he saiV 
 it at sunset the last he may ever look on. 
 
 In front of him are the low works of the old town ; 
 beyond, its hill covered with forts; about him the 
 pretty valley with its low green fields and stately mathe- 
 matic poplars with faded October leaves, through 
 which the river Dreisam winds, its waters washing the 
 walls of Friburg. Back of all this is the French Army 
 of the siege ; in advance, their trenches and batteries, 
 and behind their tents, camp equipage and camp follow- 
 ers, women of pleasure, mummers, acrobats, and 
 wandering musicians who play the soft melodies of 
 Luilli, that bring back to the boy Captain's remem- 
 brance the laughing eyes and dancing feet of the 
 beauties of courtly Versailles and joyous Paris. 
 
 But his revery is broken in upon. In the darkness 
 he distinguishes a military salute. 
 
 A moment after he hears a voice with the soft brogue 
 of an Irish gentleman, whisper in his ear: "Captain 
 d'Arnac, I belave ? Permit me to introduce O'Brien 
 Dillon, Major of Clancarthy's Regiment of the Irish 
 Brigade. It's too dark to see, so I hope you'll do me 
 the honor to remember me by me voice, which is a very 
 purty one." 
 
 "I have heard of Major Dillon," remarks Raymond, 
 saluting.
 
 8 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " Ah, from whom? " 
 
 "The whole army! That affair of outposts." 
 
 "Thank you, Captain d'Arnac," interrupts the Irish 
 Major, "though by St. Patrick I don't think you 
 should have told me. I've just been absolved for 
 to-night's bloody work. You make me vain. Vanity, 
 the priests say, is a mortal sin, so perhaps your light 
 words will send the soul of O'Brien Dillon the wrong 
 way to-night. But to business! The order to move is 
 by word of mouth no rockets or fireworks to give the 
 German gentlemen over there a hint of our visit this 
 evening. They might be too- hospitable. You and 
 your command (you lead the Forlorn Hope, I belave) 
 form the advance. You will be supported by the 
 Regiment Clancarthy as a storming party, which will 
 be followed by two regiments of Swiss, the worst 
 attacking troops in the world. They always stand 
 and shoot, and never charge and stab, which is 
 fatal in assaults on strong places. But I digress. 
 You are to pass to the right of our advance bat- 
 tery, then straight for the main breach of the fort. 
 Ye'll know its position by bringing the lantern of the 
 Gineral's headquarters in line with the torch on our 
 advance battery. Then up the breach and God help 
 ye, for I think it is about as difficult a place as I ever 
 saw in the way of warfare." 
 
 "These are General du Bourg's orders?" mutters 
 D'Arnac, his lips compressed, but his eyes very bright, 
 for he knows how desperate the affair must be. 
 
 " Yes," answers the Irishman, shortly. "You will 
 start in five minutes after I lave you. Five minutes 
 after that the supporting columns will move, so what is 
 left of ye will have company Now, good-bye, and the 
 Virgin protect ye," and he silently wrings the hand of 
 the young Frenchman. 
 
 As he does so, their interview is broken in upon by 
 a peculiar melodious, yet whining voice, which says 
 plaintively: "Maister!" 
 
 " Ah! what the divil do you want, Lanty ? " 
 
 "Maister, I was just thinkin' " 
 
 "By the soul of Moses, if you think for me again, 
 I'll break ivery bone in your body!" whispers the Irish 
 Major. "Six times in the month have you taken the
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 9 
 
 liberty of thinking for me, and ivery time some devil's 
 luck has come upon me!" 
 
 " Maister, I was just thinkin' that I heard a noise in 
 the Escargo Fort, as if the Germans, bad 'cess to them! 
 were marching out of it." 
 
 " Ye suspect a sortie?" asks the Irish officer hurriedly, 
 curiosity getting the better of superstition. 
 
 "No! Faith I thought they were going back." 
 
 "Deserting the fort? Impossible! Lanty, never 
 before did I say you were a fool, but now, mark me, 
 you're brainless!" 
 
 "I have been yer Honor's servant for eight years, 
 and it's a pity if I haven't grown like ye!" 
 
 "Obey me, or by me soul, you'll not be my servant 
 eight hours! Back to your company!" 
 
 " Faith! what does discharging me matter? We're in 
 the storming party, and both of us'll have the clivil for 
 our master to-morrow!" mutters Lanty, who saunters 
 back, his gait indicating, as far as darkness permits 
 Raymond to notice, great length of awkward limb. 
 
 " Ah, the liberty of an old family servant, I presume, 
 Major Dillon!" remarks the young Frenchman. 
 
 "No, all my old family servants died at Limerick," 
 mutters the Irish officer. 
 
 "Do you think your servant heard correctly?" asks 
 Raymond eagerly. 
 
 "That the Germans left the fort and went back into 
 the town? Impossible! It's against all the rules of 
 war, and I've fought in t\venty-t*o pitched battles. But 
 it is time for you to move, Captain, and for me to 
 marshal the storming parly that follows you." 
 
 So with a stiff military salute, the Irishman disappears 
 in the darkness, as Raymond d'Arnac whispers to little 
 D'Kssais, and each one of his sergeants: "Tell the men 
 to get ready to move ! Musketeers in the front and on the 
 flanks! Grenadiers handle your pouches, and light 
 port fires. Forward by column of fours!" 
 
 Then the French Forlorn Hope disappears into the 
 darkness of the night, and two minutes after passing 
 the advance breaching battery, makes straight for the 
 glacis and covered-way of the Fort Fscar^o. 
 
 All this is done very quietly very silentlv. The 
 blackness of this October night is so great that were it
 
 10 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 not for the touch of his file to the right or left of him, 
 and the muffled tramp of his comrades about him, each 
 man of that storming party might have thought himself 
 alone. 
 
 The silence is unbroken even by muttered curse of 
 soldier stumbling in the darkness, for the officers have 
 sworn to pass sword through the body of any man who 
 gives tongue even in whisper till the wild rush up the 
 breach of the German fort. 
 
 So, after five minutes of slow and cautious marching, 
 Raymond, who heads the Forlorn Hope, pauses, and 
 with his hand keeps back the first four grenadiers 
 marching behind him, and they in their turn stay the 
 next line and so on, till all the party have halted. 
 
 Then D'Arnac commences to grope about; he thinks 
 they must be very, near the glacis of the Escargo 
 battery. Creeping forward for some twenty yards, he 
 comes to the commencement of the fortifications, out- 
 lined by a small ditch. Carefully crawling until the 
 two lights that have been pointed out to him in the 
 French camp are in line, Raymond knows he is exactly 
 opposite the practicable breach in the walls of the 
 bastion. 
 
 Still creeping he returns to his men, and they, follow- 
 ing him very cautiously and very slowly now, soon find 
 themselves upon the glacis, at the point of attack. 
 
 All this time the German fort is very quiet. No 
 noise of ordering officers. No rattle of accoutrements 
 no clank of sabre no creek of gun carriage comes 
 down the breach of the slumbering fortress. 
 
 Noiselessly the Forlorn Hope commences to mount 
 the glacis. 
 
 Still silence! 
 
 A second after, the leading files stumble into the 
 covered-way. 
 
 Silence no longer ! 
 
 Musketry crackles in the breach above them, hand 
 grenades explode amongst them but not many. 
 
 There is a hoarse roar from the Forlorn Hope, and 
 D'Arnac, crying: "Give them the steel !" scrambles 
 up the broken stonework and rubbish of the breach, 
 and though sabres flash around him, and muskets are 
 fired almost in his face, death misses him. The next
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. II 
 
 second his men are around him, the Germans in full 
 flight; and Raymond and his one hundred and forty 
 grenadiers arc masters of the Kscargo battery, for they 
 have lost only ten men, killed and wounded, in their 
 quick rush up the breach. 
 
 "Protect the work!" the Captain cries to D'Kssais, 
 who stands beside him. "We have taken it easily 
 now to hold it! " 
 
 And D'Essais, under his orders, deploys his men so 
 as to check any return of the Germans, while his 
 Captain, looking around the deserted ruins of this 
 strong work, is astounded at the ease of his victory, 
 for stout German soldiers are not wont to fight in this 
 half-hearted way, and acute German officers are not apt 
 to be taken by surprise. 
 
 Even as D'Arnac thinks this, and examines what is 
 beyond him, telling the men to barricade the military 
 lane that runs to the next fortification (which he knows 
 is but fifty yards away), and to prepare for a counter 
 attack some one, unheeding a musket which is fired at 
 him by one of the men on guard at the breach, crawls 
 up into the fort, and giving the password "Malplaquet! " 
 O'Brien Dillon stands beside D'Arnac. 
 
 "Sapristi! Major, your supports are soon after me!" 
 exclaims the young man. 
 
 "Faith! I'm the only support ye have at present. 
 I came ahead of me men, unless it is that fellow Lanty, 
 but I have outrun him! " gasps the Irishman, who has 
 apparently come at an awful speed, and still is in a 
 hurry, for even while he is speaking, Dillon is making 
 a hasty examination of the fort. 
 
 A second after he speaks again: "From the lack of 
 noise, I discovered you fook this too aisey, and I feared 
 for you." 
 
 He is still looking about, examining the embrasures 
 and guns in them, as Mr. Lanty, crying, "Malpla- 
 quet! " the word of the night, before the sentries shoot 
 at him, stands beside them. 
 
 "Examine the cannon in those embrasures, Lanty! " 
 cries his master. "You know everything. How old 
 are they? " 
 
 "By me soul! they are bombards culverins and 
 spiroles out of date a century ago ! "
 
 12 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "As I thought," mutters the Major. "Out of use 
 since the Thirty Years War. The Germans' real 
 service guns have all been withdrawn and carried into 
 the town." 
 
 " What does it mean? " gasps Raymond, astounded. 
 
 "It means they let you take the fort, but |jft 
 nothing in it worth taking. // means that they've fired a 
 mine under it ! THE SLOW MATCH is NOW LIGHTED! " 
 
 "And in three minutes we'll all be blown in little 
 paices to the other world ! " cries Lanty with a shriek. 
 
 Excitement makes the Irish Major's voice high and 
 strident, and some of the men hearing him give a little 
 shudder, veterans as they are, one muttering, "Back, 
 or we're dead ! " Another second and the French will 
 be in flight! 
 
 But Dillon cries, "Not back, but FORWARD! The 
 Germans don't expect us on the other side of that wall ! " 
 
 And Raymond yells, "Two bastions instead of one. 
 Masters of these we're masters of Friburg ! " 
 
 Rushing to D'Essais they throw down the barricade 
 he is about erecting, and spring out into the military 
 cause-way one hundred and forty to attack a garrison 
 of eight thousand. 
 
 In the darkness, not knowing the fortifications 
 exactly, they soon find themselves, to their wonder, 
 in a cross trench, and there pause, groping which way 
 to go. 
 
 A second after, they have the light of Hell to point 
 their path. With a mighty roar, the Fort Escargo leaps 
 into the air, killing some of the advance of Clancarthy's 
 Irish Regiment that are even now climbing its breach. 
 
 Now Dillon and Raymond see where they are. 
 
 The straight military lane they have wandered out of 
 leads from a second German bastion. Down this some 
 five hundred stout Walloon infantry have rushed to 
 overpower any of the French left alive in the Escargo 
 after the explosion. 
 
 In their excitement, these Walloons, not know- 
 ing the unexpected movement of Raymond's Forlorn 
 Hope, rush past them as they stand secreted in the cross 
 trench. 
 
 Then, with a muttered "We have them ! " O'Brien 
 Dillon springs into the main military lane again, and he
 
 A PRINCESS OF 1'AKIS. 13 
 
 and Raymond, followed by their grenadiers, rush into 
 the second bastion, the possession of which gives pass 
 to the streets of the town, if they can hold it. 
 
 It is practically a detached fort, a deep fosse or moat 
 filled with water from the river cutting it off from the 
 neighboring walls but has a gate leading to the town. 
 
 There are but few Germans in this work ; these, uncx- 
 pecting attack, are now bayoneted to a man. Then 
 D'Arnac shuts the gates on the town side, just in the 
 face of some Austrian infantry that are going down to 
 the assistance of the Walloon Regiment, which is even 
 now in the ruins of the Fort Escargo, engaging the 
 Irish Regiment of Clancarthy, and its Swiss supports, 
 who are by this time crowding up the ruined glacis. 
 
 Thus, sandwiched between Germans in the town and 
 Germans outside the town, who keep succor and support 
 from coming to them, the grenadiers of Raymond 
 find they have two desperate duties one to keep 
 the German garrison of the town from entering 
 this second bastion they have seized by audacious 
 luck ; the other, to prevent the return of the 
 five hundred Walloons that are now slowly giving back 
 before the Irish regiment. Some of these now turn to 
 re-enter the town, but find themselves, to their dismay, 
 barred out, and lighted hand grenades thrown upn 
 them, and musketry assaulting them, from the fort they 
 have just sallied out of. 
 
 The plight of these Walloons is now terrible. On 
 one side, walls they cannot scale, and a gate they 
 cannot force, and on the other, the wild yells and cold 
 steel of the Irish regiment and the cold lead of the 
 Swiss Reserves. 
 
 13ut these Walloon infantry, worthy descendants of 
 Wallenstien's stout cutthroats of the Thirty Years 
 War die-hards and devil-may-cares hold themselves 
 well together, and intrenching themselves in the cross 
 road into which Raymond and his followers had 
 wandered by mistake some five minutes before, 
 hold this, like veterans in a trap, against the repeated 
 efforts of the French to dislodge them, until morning 
 comes, some two hours afterwards. 
 
 The desperate resistance of the Walloons prevents 
 the French supports reaching Raymond, Dillon, and
 
 14 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 their devoted band, who are now attacked from the town. 
 
 Leaving a few men under D'Essais to keep any strug- 
 gling Walloons from forcing the outer gates, they now 
 turn their attention to defending the inner wall against 
 the assaults from the garrison, for Baron de Arsch, the 
 German Governor, is thoroughly awake by this time, 
 and very much astounded, and his drums beat a general 
 alarm. 
 
 A moment after, one thousand Bavarian infantry 
 headed by Ratzow, come to drive out and destroy these 
 few French dare-devil lunatics, for the position of 
 D'Arnac and Dillon is rather that of insanity than 
 military method. 
 
 But assaulted as they are all this night, the French- 
 man and the Irishman and their grenadiers who grad- 
 ually become fewer and fewer hold that wall against 
 the repeated attacks of the Austrian infantry. 
 
 These would assuredly succeed were they able to use 
 their full force against the French ; but a narrow mediae- 
 val street leads up to the fortification, and only a 
 narrow front of stout German infantry can be brought 
 to bear against it. 
 
 So battling side by side, the Irish veteran and the 
 boyish French Captain grow into each other's love and 
 friendship. Thirty minutes makes them comrades an 
 hour devoted friends. 
 
 They fight on till after a time, plied by French 
 musketry and exploding hand grenades, the Austrians 
 despair of taking the work by ordinary assault. D.e 
 Arsch, who has come to the scene in person, orders 
 cannon to be brought up and sappers and miners to 
 clear away the few houses at the end of the street. 
 
 At this the pioneers go to levelling the dwellings of 
 the affrighted townsmen, who with their women and 
 children, run shrieking out of their homes, crying: 
 "Sac!" " Rapine! " " Holy Virgin preserve us!" For 
 a Sac in those days was as cruel as the torture chamber, 
 and as ruthless as an earthquake. 
 
 Gazing at these preparations, the Irish Major mutters: 
 "They're going for artillery. When they've cleared 
 away the houses, we're doomed! " 
 
 To this Lanty, who has been fighting like a devil all 
 night, mutters; "Maister I've been thinkin'. "
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 1 5 
 
 "Thinking be d ned! Keep fighting! It's your 
 infernal thinking that brought us here! " 
 
 " Maister, I've been thinkin' the guns on the outer 
 walls are loaded to the muzzle with bullets and slugs 
 for our benefit to-night. Couldn't we bring some of 
 'em round to this side and feed the German beggars 
 with their own food? " 
 
 "Yes! Fight artillery with artillery ! " cries D'Arnac. 
 
 " Better than that! " chuckles Dillon. "We'll drive 
 them from the street. Then sally out and butcher the 
 sappers in the houses." 
 
 While they are speaking they are acting! 
 
 In a jiffy they have seized two short twelve-pounders 
 loaded to the muzzle with slugs and dragged them from 
 the outer wall towards the gate opening on the town, 
 against which the German infantry, profiting by the 
 French inaction, are now thundering harder than 
 ever. 
 
 A moment after, little D'Essais, his blonde curls 
 waving in the torchlight that illumines their labors, 
 brings up two long nine-pounders, each charged with a 
 round shot and bag of bullets. So four cannon face 
 the gate. 
 
 All this is done with desperate rapidity, for the French 
 are working not only for the blood of their enemies, 
 but their own lives. 
 
 " Now then throw open the gates! "cries the Major, 
 the fire of battle in his eyes. " We'll give them first 
 their bellies full of slugs, and through the lanes in them 
 pour the two nine-pounder round shots. D'Arnac, 
 attack with your column before the Austrians recover 
 their senses! Into the houses and cut off the sappers. 
 Hold! first depress the guns until they hit the front 
 rank knee high. Are ye ready ? " 
 
 "Yes!" answers Raymond from the head of his 
 grenadiers only one hundred of them now." 
 
 "Then throw open the gates!" 
 
 As the heavy iron doors clank out the Germans, who 
 are swarming in front of them, give shout of triumph, 
 and rush towards the portals. They think it is sur- 
 render. 
 
 Then four short, heavy reports four lanes of fire and 
 death through masses of living men shrieks of agony
 
 1 6 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 from the dying in front cries of horror from the 
 affrighted in the rear. 
 
 "Charge! " yells D'Arnac, and, pouring out into the 
 street, his men give one sharp deadly volley, then use 
 cold steel, trampling over the dead and bayonetting the 
 wounded, for there is little of quarter and none of 
 mercy this desperate night. 
 
 The Germans give hurriedly back, thinking the whole 
 French army outside have forced the Walloons, and are 
 coming upon them. For a short five minutes the French 
 have their own way. 
 
 "Quick! Into the houses and butcher the working 
 parties! " cries Dillon. 
 
 The French swarm into the dwellings, which the sap- 
 pers are still demolishing, and taking them unawares 
 slaughter them ad libitum. 
 
 In the dust and darkness of this house-fight Raymond, 
 as he cuts down his foes, hears from the next room a 
 girlish cry. His opponents vanquished, the soldier flies 
 to aid beauty and distress. 
 
 He finds both. 
 
 Two of his grenadiers are quarreling over a girl of 
 fourteen they have found cowering from fright in the 
 darkness. 
 
 " Here's beauty! " laughs one, and seizes the child. 
 
 "And booty !" yells the other, dragging a heavy 
 gold chain from her white neck, for the girl is only 
 clothed in the garments of night. 
 
 " I buy both ! " cries Raymond, stepping beside her. 
 "Ten louis d'or for the child two louis for the 
 chain ! " 
 
 " They're yours, Captain ! Settle in camp ! " answer 
 the men, fortunately giving their boy commander no 
 trouble, for he would have saved the girl by his sword 
 could he not save her by his purse. 
 
 "Quick ! or we won't get back ! " orders Raymond, 
 who sees through a window the Germans coming on 
 again, and hears Dillon crying : "Retreat ! or they'll 
 get in the gate with us ! " 
 
 Then the child having fainted, Raymond hurriedly 
 picks her up, though somehow her round white arms 
 close round his neck, as if she knew she had found 
 protection. So the French draw off but not all of them !
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. I? 
 
 Some wretches, forgetting peril in love of plunder, 
 stay to loot the houses, and are hemmed in and slaught- 
 ered, for the Germans, savage at their losses, have now 
 discovered their foes are few, and are advancing rapidly, 
 pouring out musketry fire as they come on. 
 
 Through a storm of bullets D'Arnac, shielding his 
 charge by holding her in front of him, makes his way 
 he and what is left of his band now but fifty grenadiers. 
 
 Some of these are so wounded that, waiting for 
 them, the Austrians almost come up to the French. 
 Hindered by his burden, Raymond is for a moment 
 surrounded, and would be lost, did not the Irish Major, 
 whose arms are bloody to the shoulder, sally forth and 
 cut him out. 
 
 But this keeps the gates open, and they would be 
 forced now and the work carried had not little D'Essais, 
 who has been left in charge of the fortification, brought 
 up another muzzle loaded cannon. 
 
 With it he rakes another line in the advancing 
 columns 
 
 Then the gates close. 
 
 As the iron bars fall into place, Dillon gives a low 
 laugh and says : "Ye're a lucky fellow, D'Arnac ! Ye're 
 the only man who took a prisoner to-night and she's a 
 beauty ! " 
 
 Coming to him, he clasps his hand and mutters: 
 "I'm glad ye've taken care of the poor little girl !" 
 and pats her head and strokes her curls. Next he says 
 suddenly: " But we must go to fighting again, me boy, 
 or both of us will be dallying with angels to-morrow 
 not flesh and blood darlings. " 
 
 So Raymond takes his little charge, who is still 
 unconscious, and putting her in an out-of-the-way 
 embrasure, where flying bullets will not be apt to find 
 her, girds up his loins for another grapple with his foes. 
 
 This has now become almost a death struggle, for the 
 Austrian sappers are working again, and Austrian can- 
 non make their appearance at the end of the street, 
 and the attack is pressed more fiercely than ever. 
 Grenades and small bombs are thrown by hand from 
 the roofs of neighboring houses upon the few French- 
 men who still stand and fight, and fight and die, cheered 
 by the gallant Irishman and the French Captain.
 
 1 8 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 At each flight of hand grenades, and each discharge 
 of Austrian bullets, there are fewer Frenchmen to fight 
 fewer Frenchmen to kill. As the last houses that 
 protect the French work from general assault are 
 levelled and the German artillery opens fire, Raymond, 
 his arm cut open by a sabre stroke in the street fight, 
 clasps the hand of O'Brien Dillon, who is bleeding from 
 a scalp wound, and mutters: " Thank you for trying to 
 save my life!" 
 
 To this the Irish Major answers through clenched 
 teeth: "We'll send a few more to Kingdom Come ahead 
 of us yet. Good-bye, me boy, till the other world ! We 
 go together! " 
 
 " Together ! " echoes D'Arnac. 
 
 They know their time has come for their enemies 
 have now made temporary bridges and are preparing to 
 cross the moat and attack them on the flanks, which 
 they cannot defend and the Austrians are in no mood 
 to give quarter. 
 
 Even as they speak, a lighted carcass filled with 
 burning sulphur, to illuminate the work of death, is 
 thrown into the bastion held by the French, and De 
 Arsch, the German Commandant, smiling to himself, 
 says: " We'll have these few Frenchmen!" for he sees 
 there are now only ten. 
 
 But he doesn't ! 
 
 For now there is a sudden discharge of cannon from 
 the other side of the bastion, and Lanty, giving shrieks 
 of joy, comes running to Dillon, crying: "It's me 
 thinking that's saved ye, ungrateful maister!" 
 
 "What the divil have you done?" 
 
 "I jest found two cannon that raked the little lane 
 the cursed Walloons outside were holding. They were 
 both loaded to the muzzle. So I turned 'em loose on 
 the bastes that were keepin' succor from coming to us. 
 I killed a hundred and they've fled. Begorra! Isn't 
 that a swate Irish yell?" 
 
 And so it is! 
 
 The Irish regiment, swarming to their aid, stands 
 beside them, and the Swiss sharpshooters are being 
 deployed upon the walls. There is the rattle of a 
 French battery that is being dragged by hand through 
 the breach of the Escargo and up the military lane, the
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 19 
 
 whole Irish Brigade is following after it, and the town 
 of Friburg is lost to the Austrians, and stout De Arsch 
 is uttering German curses and withdrawing his garrison 
 into the four great forts upon the Schlossberg that 
 stands half a mile away. 
 
 Then Raymond, wiping the blood from his arm, clasps 
 hands with O'Brien Dillon, Major of Clancarthy's 
 Regiment of Irish troops in the French service. Next 
 going in search of the one thing this night has given 
 him save wounds and glory the little girl he has rescued 
 from the town of Friburg he takes her tenderly up. 
 
 And she, recognizing him, puts her arms round his 
 neck and says: "Brave gentleman! You have saved 
 me! I love you!" 
 
 So, clasping her by the hand, and to the word of 
 command and tap of drum, and beside him O'Brien 
 Dillon, followed by Lant.y, Raymond marches his storm- 
 ing party -four grenadiers of the Regiment Laval now 
 all that remain alive of this night's death frolic out 
 of the fort they have given to the King of France, and 
 with it the fair City of Friburg. 
 
 But he leaves behind little D'Essais, his blonde curls 
 stained with blood, lying dead upon the lone bastion, 
 and one thousand more brave men, Germans and 
 French, food for the crows, in the broken embrasures 
 and battered walls of the Escargo Fort and narrow 
 streets of the town. All because his Most Christian 
 Majesty of France and his cousin, the Emperor of 
 Austria, had had a little dispute as to who should be 
 King of Spain. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE ANNALS OF A SOLDIER OF MISFORTUNE. 
 
 So THEY march down over the ruins of the exploded 
 bastion, a melancholy but glorious procession, greeted 
 with the bravus of the French troops and the wild yells 
 of the Irish Brigade, who line the road to the little 
 bridge over the Dreisam. 
 
 Here some columns, marching to the further assault 
 and occupation of the town, open their ranks and cheer 
 them as they pass through, though there is little time
 
 20 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 for ceremony, for the French are following up their 
 successes of the night, and the rattle of musketry from 
 Friburg now shows they are driving the last of the 
 Austrians out of the streets of the place into their fort- 
 resses on the Schlossberg. 
 
 At last the heroes of the night stand before Ray- 
 mond's tent with the grime of battle still on them ; 
 their uniforms are rags, their limbs trembling with the 
 wear and tear, both mental and physical, of fighting 
 without hope of victory without hope of life. The 
 four grenadiers, veterans as they are, look at each 
 other as if astounded they still live, until dismissed to 
 their quarters. 
 
 Notwithstanding offers of hospitality the Irish Major 
 says: "Good-bye, my lad. I want a little sleep, and 
 Lanty, as usual, wants his breakfast. I presume this 
 afternoon will see you at least a major." 
 
 " And you, I presume, a colonel," answers Raymond, 
 pressing the hand of his friend of a night. 
 
 "Faith, I hope so," mutters Dillon, "but the divil's 
 own luck has been upon me ever since I was " He 
 checks himself suddenly, biting his lip, then goes on 
 "for the last year. If I was anybody else they might 
 make me a gineral, but, bedad ! when you've given up 
 hoping it's best to stop guessing." 
 
 Then casting his eyes over the tents of the surround- 
 ing army, he says suddenly: "Lanty, they must have 
 moved the headquarters of our regiment. " 
 
 "Begorra! the Rigiment Clancarthy can get along 
 without headquarters after last night." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Why, I mane that I counted 'em on the bastion 
 before we left and I could only find twenty-five of 
 'em, all tould. The colonel's dead and there's divil 
 another officer in the rigiment, save yourself. Shure, 
 yer Honor '11 be the colonel and perhaps they'll make 
 me the next in command." 
 
 But this prophecy does not seem to affect Dillon with 
 joy. He mutters to himself these curious words: "It's 
 the second regiment my bad luck has destroyed." A 
 moment after, as if trying to throw something from his 
 mind, he laughs a little shortly, and patting Raymond 
 on the shoulder, says: "Good-bye. I leave you to
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 21 
 
 your luck. Faith, you've captured a little beauty. 
 Every man in the camp will envy you." 
 
 But Raymond, who has been too short a time a 
 soldier to have acquired the vices peculiar to the camps 
 of those rough-and-tumble days, replies curtly: "No 
 one will envy me, Major Dillon. Until I can restore 
 her to her friends, my capture of last night rests there," 
 and points up the valley of St. Peters, towards the 
 spires of the Carthusian monastery and convent that 
 pierce the blue sky a couple of miles away. 
 
 "Ah! God bless you for a good-hearted and an 
 honest boy!" cries Dillon. "Couldn't you tell I was 
 only testing you, to find out if you were as bad as all the 
 rest of the young bloods, and now that I find you're 
 better, it's the joy of my heart to have saved your life. 
 Good-bye until 
 
 "Until this afternoon," answers Raymond, "The 
 friendship of last night shall last till you wish it to 
 cease." 
 
 "Faith, an' it will be a long one, then," replies 
 Dillon Then, looking at the child, whose loveliness is 
 heightened by her little bare feet made rosy by the cold 
 and made picturesque by Raymond's blue infantry coat 
 in which he has wrapped her to keep her white limbs 
 from the fresh October breeze, the Major remarks: 
 " I hope she'll bring you more happiness than the one 1 
 saved. Always dread beauty. " 
 
 "An Irishman a woman-hater! " ejaculates Raymond. 
 
 "Not a woman-hater, but a woman-/<?rt/r>-, " replies 
 Dillon. Then he gives a gloomy sigh, wrings Ray- 
 mond's hand and strides away, followed by Mr. Lanty, 
 who has taken advantage of this colloquy to borrow 
 from D'Arnac's servant enough wine and provisions 
 to make a very comfortable meal for himself and mast< r, 
 laughingly remarking, "Excuse the liberty, Capia:. . 
 but we've not been foraging for a week." 
 
 Left alone, Raymond turns to the child, who has 
 been looking at him eagerly perhaps almost timidly 
 and her beauty interests him more than ever. He asks, 
 reassuringly, " What is your name, little one? " 
 
 "Jeanne-," she replies. 
 
 "Jeanne? No other? " 
 
 "Oh, yes. Jeanne Franfoise Quinault."
 
 22 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "And your father and mother? " 
 
 "My father is dead." 
 
 "Oh! Killed during the siege?" 
 
 "No, doing a triple somersault." 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 "A triple somersault. My father was an acrobat 
 my mother is an actress. I have two brothers, Abra- 
 ham and Maurice. I am an actress, too. I play 
 children's parts, and dance and sing. Would you like 
 me to recite? I know some of Moliere's lines." 
 
 "Oh, strolling players! " ejaculates the young man, 
 perhaps looking with slightly less reverence at the pretty 
 little goddess who stands in bare feet beside him. 
 
 Then a struggle comes into his mind. Her family 
 dispersed, perhaps destroyed. Why should he not take 
 what has been given into his hands? He will be kinder 
 to her than others. It will be a better life than that 
 she has been following, for strolling players in the year 
 1713 were not considered of any great account in the 
 social life of this world. 
 
 But even as he thinks this, trusting blue eyes are 
 turned upon him. The child says: "You have saved 
 my life. You are as noble as the hero of the play. I 
 trust you." 
 
 D'Arnac feels two soft lips pressed upon his hand, 
 and mutters to himself: "She shall not trust in vain." 
 
 Calling to his servant he says: "Get one of the 
 laundresses of the regiment one of the soldier's wives 
 and let her get some clothes for this little girl, and 
 see she has enough to eat, and at one o'clock have my 
 horse ready," then goes in and writes a report of last 
 night's affair to his commanding officer, tumbles upon 
 his cot, and goes to sleep like Morpheus himself. 
 
 Five hours after he takes breakfast with his protege, 
 and finds the girl so fascinating that, horses being 
 brought, he takes personal charge of her journey to the 
 Carthusian Convent, for the lanes about an army of 
 those days were filled with camp followers who were 
 little better than banditti. 
 
 Arriving at the Convent, Raymond places his little 
 protege in charge of the good nuns, upon which she 
 bursts into tears, and sobs: "Don't leave me here 
 forever! "
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 23 
 
 And he, looking at the bright face, and thinking it is 
 too sunny to become that of a nun, says: "No, only 
 till I can place you in your mother's arms!" 
 
 "Pooh! I love you much better!" At this Raymond 
 laughs merrily, and the mother superior gives a gasp of 
 horror. 
 
 "My mother gets drunk!" continues little Jeanne. 
 
 " Does she? Then I'll forward you to my relatives in 
 France!" says this young gentleman, who does not do 
 things bv halves. 
 
 Having made up his mind on this point, D'Arnac 
 hastily bids her adieu, and rides back to his quarters, 
 where he finds an orderly from his brigade general bear- 
 ing a packet marked " Colonel d'Arnac, on Service," 
 and opening it, finds a most complimentary epistle, 
 thanking him for the town he has given to the French 
 Arms, and notifying him of his appointment as Acting 
 Colonel of his regiment, a rank that the writer states 
 there is no doubt will be confirmed by the King at 
 Versailles, as soon as he hears of Raymond's marvelous 
 achievement. 
 
 Filled with joy and pride, this boy Colonel of twenty 
 thinks: "Egad! had it not been for the noble Irishman, 
 I would have been buried under the debris of the Escargo 
 Fort, and not a colonel. I will ride over and congratu- 
 late Dillon. He at least must be a colonel also! " 
 
 With the impetuosity of youth, Raymond throws 
 himself upon his steed once more, and gallops to the 
 tent occupied by O'Brien. Dillon, to find that veteran 
 very gloomy and morose. 
 
 "Let me congratulate you! " he cries. 
 
 "Congratulate me on what?" answers the Irishman, 
 savagely. " On being arrested? " 
 
 "Arrested!" gasps Raymond. " They've made me 
 a colonel." 
 
 "And, begorra, put O'Brien Dillon under arrest, and 
 poor Lanty is in the guard tent." 
 
 "Impossible!" 
 
 " Divil doubt it! Look at that letter!" and the Major 
 hands Raymond one in the same handwriting that had 
 brought joy to D'Arnac, but which curtly orders Major 
 O'Brien Dillon, of Clancarthy's Regiment of Foot, to 
 deliver up his sword to the officer bearing the note, and
 
 24 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 hold himself under arrest in his tent, until a court 
 martial can be called together to try him on the follow- 
 ing charge, viz : ' Conduct unbecoming an officer, on the 
 evening of the i3th of October, 1713, in deserting his 
 command in the presence of the enemy, during active 
 service on an attack upon the Escargo Fort, and not 
 being with his regiment during the night in question." 
 
 "Why, you were the hero of the attack! Deserting 
 your command! You were in front of it! " 
 
 "Yes, too far in front of it; I presume that's what 
 they mean," sneers the Major. "And then, poor 
 Lanty, they talk about making him run the gauntlet. 
 There are only twenty five men in the regiment, and it 
 will be a very short, though not a merry run Mr. Lanty 
 will have." 
 
 "This outrage I will prevent with my life with my 
 sword with my honor!" cries Raymond, and impulsively 
 runs out to mount his horse again. 
 
 "Where are you going? " calls O'Brien after him. 
 
 "To the Due de Villars, Marechal of F ranee! " 
 
 " Then, for God's sake, don't leave till I speak to you ! 
 I'm under arrest and can't leave me tent, or I would 
 pull you off that horse myself!" 
 
 Thus adjured, Raymond, stifling his indignation, 
 though his cheeks are flushed, his eyes flashing and his 
 lips trembling, unhorses himself again, and re-enters 
 the tent of the Irish Major. 
 
 " Now sit down on that corn-beef keg, and promise 
 not to get up from it until I tell you." 
 
 " But I can arrange this affair I can do justice to 
 you!" urges Raymond. "Marechal de Villars is my 
 father's friend, and was my granduncle, the great 
 Turenne's pupil in arms. He will believe me. I will 
 destroy your cowardly enemies " 
 
 "Enemies that's what it is! That's what I want 
 to talk to you about, before you go to the Duke, so you 
 may know how to meet them. Listen to me! I think 
 it is enemies we both have! " 
 
 "Pooh! I haven't an enemy in the world !" sneers 
 Raymond, "unless it is the Austrians over there, as a 
 matter of business." 
 
 "Haven't you my poor confidin' babe Colonel 
 though ye are ? I think ye have a very deadly and
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 25 
 
 a most secret one! But light a pipe with me. I've got 
 some rare Virginia tobacco some oi' the last that 
 my Hut we won't think of that! " lie says, with a 
 sigh. " Present evils take precedence of past ones. 
 Now, you smoke, and I'll talk. What you won't 
 light up? You haven't learned the fashionable amuse- 
 ment. Bedacl ! it's the only thing that's kept me from 
 going crazy. Sometimes in the last year, when I think 
 of my ! " 
 
 He checks himself suddenly again, but a fearful 
 expression, sterner than even that of battle, has come 
 into the Irishman's blue eyes. 
 
 Next he says: "I can smoke and talk too. You 
 listen, and answer my questions straight as a lunge en 
 carte for perhaps your life depends on it. Have ye 
 ever noticed, since you joined it two months ago, what 
 has been nappening to your regiment?" 
 
 " I hardly think I understand you," returns Raymond. 
 "The Regiment of Laval has had the usual chances of 
 war. Our losses have been " 
 
 "Enormous! Unheard of!" interrupts the Major. 
 "When you joined your regiment you were about eight 
 hundred strong. To-day you 're four, rank and file, and 
 you, its Colonel, have had a cat's lives or you'd have 
 been in the burial trench a hundred times. Before 
 you came your regiment averaged about the same death 
 rate as the rest of the army, barring my regiment, 
 which was always in bad luck ever since I joined it. 
 We always had the most desperate places, and before 
 that the regiment I belonged to, that of De Crissey, was 
 equally unfortunate. They were always put into the 
 deadly place in the fight. Why did the HeadqtuirU -iV 
 staff do it? It wasn't luck that always gave my regi- 
 ment the worst of it. Neither was it luck that has 
 always put your regiment since you joined at tin- 
 point of massacre. There must be some reason for it. " 
 
 "The chances of war." 
 
 " This is no chance, it's design I am talking about! 
 My regiment, De Crissey's, lost four hundred men in 
 the escalade and fight in the swamp at Landau, and four 
 hundred more in the attack upon the ravelin at that 
 place. Then there was no more regiment of De Crissey, 
 and I was transferred to as fine an Irish one as ever
 
 26 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 carried the colors of France, only three. weeks ago, 
 and we have now got twenty-five men left, according 
 to Lanty, and a major under arrest. You join your 
 regiment, and in less than two months, from eight 
 hundred, you come down to four men, all told, and 
 a colonel, not under arrest, thank God! Now, there 
 is some reason for this. Who do you think your 
 enemy is ? " 
 
 "Great Heaven! "you don't imagine I)u Bourg, the 
 General in command of our division ? " 
 
 " Oh no! He is simply a soldier. It is his Chief-of 
 Staff, I think that little snivelling dandy who has just 
 come from the Court at Versailles, that little sycophant 
 to the powers that be." 
 
 " Lenoir ? " 
 
 "The man! Gaston Lenoir! " 
 
 "Why should he hate us ? " 
 
 "He don't hate us. He's simply doing the dirty 
 work of some one in the French Court. Perhaps two, 
 my enemy and thy enemy. Raymond le Comte 
 d'Arnac, who is the lady who hates you ?" 
 
 "No one!" replies the young Frenchman. Then he 
 asks suddenly : "Who is your fair enemy ?" 
 
 "Divil if I know. There is only one, and she 
 sometimes I think she must be dead, and sometimes, 
 God knows I don't know what I think!" and tears 
 stand in the Irish officer's eyes, which make him look 
 very tender, and very handsome, for he is as yet under 
 thirty, and though he has the strong yet graceful 
 figure of a soldier, his face has a genial and kindly 
 look, and his eyes would be laughing ones had not some 
 incident of his military life made them seem almost 
 sad. Then he says solemnly: " Last night made you 
 my friend, the only friend I have got in the world now. 
 All the officers of my regiment are killed, and Lanty in 
 the guard-tent, poor divil! Sometimes I feel as if 
 I must tell somebody about my sore heart, and you're 
 the only man this side of Ireland that I would tell, and 
 perhaps it may help you to fight my battle a little for 
 me, and maybe it may help you to fight your battle for 
 yourself. Would you like to hear the annals of a soldier 
 of misfortune, before you go to see, on his behalf, the 
 Marechal of France ? "
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 27 
 
 " If it will please you to tell me!" mutters Raymond, 
 noting the agitation of his Irish friend. 
 
 "Very well, then. My father was killed some twenty- 
 five years ago, fighting for his King, James the Second, 
 of the Holy Catholic faith, at the siege of Limerick, and 
 with him the most of my relatives, save my cousin, Arthur 
 Dillon, who, they tell me, is coming over here to take 
 the French service, like myself. I was educated by the 
 Priests of Tralee, and there picked up Lanty, who was 
 a lay brother, and knew more than all the rest of the 
 monastery. He was a great student he could read 
 Latin and Greek, and was experimenting with what 
 he called the forces of nature, and what the monks 
 thought was unholy, and meant dealings with the divil. 
 So one night, after he had illuminated the whole monas- 
 tery with some candles he made of nothing by a whirling 
 machine he had invented, they accused him, on 
 account of the great light he produced, of having deal- 
 ings with the Prince of Darkness, and put him into 
 a cell for life. And I, God forgive me for my sin, if I 
 committed one ! thought his was a hard fate, as he told me 
 he had only got the idea of the light by stroking a cat's 
 back the wrong way, and gitting a spark out of her. So, 
 as he'd been very kind to me when I ran away from the 
 monastery to be a soldier, I slipped down into the 
 vaults, and released him. And from that day to this, 
 if it wasn't for his infernal thinking all the time, he'd be 
 the best servant and most faithful creature that ever 
 followed a man through the bad luck and good luck, 
 through the famine and plenty, through the poverty and 
 riches that always come to a dashing soldier of 
 fortune. 
 
 " With Mr. Lanty following after me, by hook and by 
 crook we evaded the priests and made our way to the 
 Cove of Cork, and from there got passage in a trading 
 lugger to Ostend, which was then, as luck would have 
 it, in possession of the French, where I enlisted as a 
 gintleman volunteer, and fought my way up in three 
 pitch battles to that of a lieutenant of I )e ( 'rissey's Reg- 
 iment of Horse. Lanty, to give me a genteel appear- 
 ance, acting as my servant, and swearing my family was 
 the oldest in Ireland, which 1 supported with my sword 
 in three bloody duels, until no one doubted the good
 
 28 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 blood of O'Brien Dillon. Then, with a little luck at 
 gaming, I bought my captain's commission, and became 
 Captain O'Brien Dillon of De Crissey's Dragoons, and 
 thought myself a very fine gintleman, and a very lucky 
 one. That was three years ago. Two more years of 
 battle, and I became a major, and then came but a 
 little over a year ago the greatest joy of my life, and 
 the greatest misery as well. One evening, just after 
 De Villars had forced Prince Eugene at Denain, and 
 Du Bourg had captured Marchiennes with all the 
 German supplies and most of their ammunition, and had 
 settled down very comfortably to the siege of Douay, 
 for we were having rather easy work of it now, Queen 
 Anne having made peace with his Majesty of France, 
 and Marlborough and his British guards, infantry and 
 cavalry, that were always killing us, and making them- 
 selves disagreeable to us, having sailed away across the 
 water, 
 
 "Well, one night De Crissey, our Colonel, sent for 
 me to his tent, and says: ' Major, do you want desperate 
 duty?' 
 
 "I says: 'If there's anything in it in the way of 
 glory or honor. ' 
 
 "He says: 'More! There's money!' 
 
 " 'Where is it ? ' whispered I, very eager. Then he 
 detailed me with two squadrons of dragoons to join 
 Colonel Pasteur in his great raid on Dutch Brabant, 
 that was to make things even for General Grovestein's 
 outrageous treatment of the French peasantry about 
 Metz. It was to be a foray of blood, a foray of fire, 
 and a foray of robbery, for which they had picked out 
 nearly a thousand of the most desperate riders in the 
 French army. 
 
 "Leaving camp that night, we skirted and 
 flanked Prince Eugene's entrenchments and got 
 safely into Namur by the morning. We were there 
 reinforced by a detachment from the garrison, which 
 made in all about fifteen hundred as wild and reckless 
 recruits as ever the divil enlisted, that were to be let 
 loose like a pack of mad dogs on the peaceful peasantry 
 and rich burghers of the Low Countries. 
 
 " And what a foray it was-! 
 
 "We left Namur early in the morning and crossing
 
 \ PRIM h>s n- PARIS. 29 
 
 the Schelde at Langdorp, we pushed up right through 
 the heart of Flanders, into Holland, swimming dykes, 
 burning villages, and traveling with fire and blood, but 
 taking no plunder being in too much of a hurry. So 
 in twenty-four hours we were at Bergen-op-Zoon ninety 
 full long English miles from Namur. Then we started 
 back and this time it was fire and blood and plunder 
 also. We harried the country between the Schelde and 
 the Meuse. Lanty was in his element. He had three 
 burgomasters under ransom himself, in one day, and the 
 whole of us had taken some sixty of them, and bailiffs 
 and magistrates as hostages. Oh, the richness of the 
 country! Bedad the men got so much silver, they 
 almost turned up their noses at gold, and as for jewelry 
 it was nothin' less than diamonds they'd look at towards 
 the end. But word being brought to the States General 
 of our diviltries, they had detachments from the garri- 
 sons of Antwerp, and Ghent, and Leige, and Brussels, 
 and every other place in Flanders, Brabant and Holland 
 looking after us. 
 
 "One time we were surrounded, and divil a man of us 
 would have gotten away alive, let alone carryin' off any 
 .booty, but our Colonel Pasteur was the man for the 
 emergency, and he asked for volunteers to disguise 
 themselves as peasants and give the surrounding detach- 
 ments wrong information of our route. I would have 
 volunteered myself for this duty, but they stopped me 
 on account of my brogue, which would have betrayed 
 me and been the ruin of us. In the excitement I had 
 forgotten my Irish accent. 
 
 "So our volunteers, disguised as Dutch peasants, 
 were questioned by the enemy as to our line of travel, 
 and gave 'em such true information they missed us 
 entirely. So we, coming down by the way .of Lilo, 
 crossed the Schelde by boat, and passing within five 
 miles of Brussels, harrying, burning, plundering and 
 ravaging, at last got deep into the recesses of Sonien 
 forest. 
 
 " There we camped, after three blessed days of the 
 hardest work that mortal man ever endured, for one or 
 two of the troopers had died from fatigue in the saddle; 
 and as for the horses, if \\e had not remounted ourselves 
 from the Dutch farmers, we would have all been foot
 
 30 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 soldiers by this time. But our flesh and blood was weak 
 and hungry, and must have rest and food. 
 
 "We were compelled to encamp for a few hours, I 
 taking up my quarters in a little farmhouse along with 
 Captain Ducroc and some other officers of Pasteur's 
 own regiment. There my adventure came upon me, 
 that changed me from a soldier of fortune to a soldier of 
 misfortune. 
 
 " Sometimes I think it was judgment upon me for 
 confiscating a gold communion service ; but that was 
 from a Lutheran church, so it can hardly count against 
 me. Anyhow, the Virgin help me ! there's been a curse 
 on me from that day to this. Sometimes I think it's 
 God's doings, and sometimes I feel it is a man sneaking 
 behind my back and plotting my despair and death. " And 
 the Major's eyes glow as he tosses his long hair back from 
 his forehead, like a lion looking for the sulking savage 
 whose arrow is in his hide. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE DUEL BY THE CAMP FIRE. 
 
 AFTER a moment O'Brien Dillon overcomes his 
 emotion and goes hurriedly on, as if hoping by narra- 
 tive to destroy sentiment. 
 
 " So I came up to the house followed by Lanty and his 
 burgomaster captives who had been tied on horses to 
 keep them from running away myself laden down 
 with the gold I had gathered up in the way of cups and 
 plates and doubloons from many a rich Flemish village, 
 to say nothing of jewelry, till I felt myself more like a 
 fermier general than a soldier of fortune. 
 
 "In front of the gate leading to the little orchard 
 stood a coach with four horses, one of those grand equi- 
 pages that people of quality travel in. 
 
 " ' Is that some of our plunder, Lanty?' says I, for 
 by this time I thought the whole world entirely was 
 mine, spoils were so piling up on me. 
 
 "Lanty answers, 'No, yer honor, that's Captain 
 Ducroc's capture, and he's mighty proud of it, and more 
 proud of what's inside of it. '
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 31 
 
 "Just then-Ducroc stepped out of the coach, carry- 
 ing a bag of plunder also, to prevent any one else 
 robbing him of it, for the whole command had gotten 
 so in the way of confiscation that a priest three days in 
 our company would have become athafefrom very force 
 of example. After the Captain stepped out a little 
 snivelling maid servant, but, notwithstanding the tears 
 in her eyes, very pretty in a peasant way. 
 
 "I was just turning away to mind my own business 
 when Ducroc's voice caught me. He was standing by 
 the side of the carriage, his handsome, wicked face blax- 
 ing with anger, and saying very much after the manner 
 of the Sultan of Turkey to an odalisque: 'Step out of 
 the carriage at once, madame ! Obey me ! ' 
 
 " Then, deeply veiled, I saw the figure of a female 
 Venus leave the equipage and follow him into the farm- 
 house. 
 
 "' They killed the postilions and captured the lady 
 and the coach, and it's full o' jewels and lots o' fine things, 
 only half an hour ago, just off the road leading from 
 Brussels! ' says Lanty, who always seems to know other 
 people's business as well as his own. 'That Ducroc, ' 
 he whispers in me ear, ' is a great brute ! ' 
 
 "Though I myself didn't like the Captain's manner, 
 still, if it had been a peasant girl, or perchance, a burgo- 
 master's daughter, I should not have interfered; but 
 something in the style of the lady's walk, something in 
 her haughty carriage, told me Ducroc's captive was 
 more like to be a princess than anything else. 
 
 "However, I stepped into the farmhouse and found 
 an empty room, the other officers not having come in 
 yet, being busied about the proper care of their booty. 
 
 " In the next room was Ducroc and the lady, from 
 which I heard these words, in a voice so swate it went 
 to me heart of hearts: ' One thousand crowns for my 
 safe conveyance into France ! ' 
 
 "Then I heard Ducroc's nasty, dirty, mean, rascally 
 laugh. 
 
 "Again the voice pleadingly: ''Five thousand crowns 
 for my safe conduct into France and my blessing and 
 my prayers. ' 
 
 "Still Ducroc's jeering laugh. 
 
 " 'TEN THOUSAND!'
 
 32 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " But her captor 'sneers: 'I have so much plunder 
 already, mademoiselle, that I care nothing for money 
 only for beauty! ' 
 
 "At this the lady's voice grew very sad and very 
 desperate, as I heard her gasp in tones that broke my 
 heart: ' Then I kill myself ! ' 
 
 "At which I burst into the room, calling out: 
 ' Ducroc, come to dinner, me boy! Ye've only three 
 hours before we march again. Our scouts say Prince 
 Eugene has despatched thirty squadroons to capture us, 
 dead or alive.' Then, appearing to be astonished, I 
 said: 'Excuse me a lady! Oh, naughty Captain !' 
 and looked at her. 
 
 "Oh, Raymond 1 the form of a Greek Venus! Eyes 
 blue as the Irish Sea! Hair with sunset in it! 
 
 "As I gazed at her I put my hand on Ducroc's shoul- 
 der. 'Come to dinner, clear boy,' I said laughingly. 
 'Appetite first love afterwards! Come to dinner! ' 
 
 "But I didn't mean dinner, I meant death, because 
 I had made up my mind to save that poor despairing 
 girl, or kill him before we broke camp. 
 
 "So coming out, we sat down to a very hasty and 
 impromptu meal that was served in the little orchard by 
 the Flemish farmer and his trembling frau. It was a 
 pretty piece of greensward with a couple of apple trees 
 stuck in it for ornament. A camp fire was blazing as 
 the sunset was coming on. This, as the night was 
 cold, was surrounded by us officers, each with his 
 plunder, for safe keeping, behind him, and his servant 
 sitting at his hand and helping him to wine and food. 
 Each man taking his master's leavings for himself 
 Lanty doing the same by me. 
 
 "There were some eight or ten of us now, and the 
 wine flowed fast, and all the time I kept my eye on 
 Ducroc to see he didn't leave us. 
 
 "Then eating being finished and only drinking going 
 on, I proposed dice, for I knew Ducroc's weakness. 
 He ha^d all the vices, but he loved gambling the most. 
 
 "The stakes were very high, for every man of us 
 thought himself a Crcesus, and as the bottle passed and 
 repassed, they grew higher and higher. 
 
 "I wagered two golden goblets for me first throw, 
 and won. Lanty grabbed up me winnings mighty quick
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 33 
 
 and piled them up behind me for safety. Soon the 
 game grew desperate, and by the blessing of Heaven I 
 was very lucky, and in a couple of hours, by continuous 
 throwing, I had won from the rest enough to make 
 them drop out, and from Ducroc every bit of plunder 
 he had stolen in our three days' foray, and he had done 
 more than his share. 
 
 " 'Have ye anything else ye'd like to lose, Captain?' 
 said I, easily, with a little laligh, which made him angry. 
 
 " 'That coach and four horses! ' cried he desperately, 
 pointing to the equipage. Then he muttered to 
 himself: 'She can ride behind me! ' 
 
 " ' Five hundred crowns agin' them, if ye like! ' 
 
 "Up they went! 
 
 " Again I won! 
 
 " He looked around for more to stake, for he'd have 
 played for his life by this time, if any one had valued it 
 save himself. After an instant he muttered, ' The 
 trunks containing her dresses. The clothes she has on 
 now will last her my time.' 
 
 " 'Faith! ye're about right, thinks I, Captain Ducroc. 
 But I only remarked, ' Two diamond rings and a couple 
 of hundred crowns against them.' 
 
 " ' All right,' said he. 
 
 "Then, a flambeau being brought, for it was very 
 dark now, and the only light we had was from the camp 
 fire, the game went on. 
 
 " 'Three sixes and a deuce,' said he. 
 
 " ' Four fives! ' cried I, and Lanty gave a yell of joy 
 and gathered in the stakes. 
 
 " -' Have ye anything else ? ' I said. 
 
 " ' My horse and accoutrements,' he groaned. ' She 
 can walk as well as I.' 
 
 " 'Against this diamond ring?' 
 
 " 'If you add one hundred crowns to it.' 
 
 " ' Done! ' says I, 'but you like more than the worth 
 of your money. ' 
 
 " Agin I won. 
 
 "'Have ye anything else ye'd like to lose very 
 quick ? ' I laughed. I was bantering him and he was 
 growing savage and desperate. Finally he says ' YES.' 
 
 " 'What?' 
 
 " 'The girl in the house.'
 
 34 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "'The servant maid? Lanty might gamble with 
 you for her.' 
 
 " ' No! the mistress.' 
 
 " ' She's not worth much. She will only bother me 
 to get her away. She's too delicate a piece of 
 merchandise,' says I, trying to appear unconcerned. 
 
 "'You've seen her. You know how beautiful she 
 is,' he answered. ' What will you put against her? ' 
 
 " I was going to say ' everything I have in the world,' 
 but I restrained myself and laughed. ' Would one 
 hundred crowns please ye ? ' 
 
 " 'One hundred crowns! ' he cried. ' Bring her out. 
 Let him look on her beauty. She is worth ten 
 thousand.' 
 
 " The other officers applauded this idea. 
 
 "I said nothing. I had a guess she'd like to see me 
 kill him, and I was pretty sure the sword would follow 
 the dice box, Ducroc was in such a divilish humor. 
 
 "So they led her out, she looking like an old picture 
 I had seen in a monastery in Ghent of Bordicea when 
 the Romans captured her. If glances would have 
 stabbed, her eyes would have been the death of every 
 man of us round the camp fire. But after one fierce 
 look she gave a sigh and stood before us having the 
 beauty of a despairing goddess. Then the flickering 
 fire lit up her face, and there was a cry of admiration 
 from every man of them. 
 
 " ' Gintlemen,' said I, ' I intind to win this lady, but 
 I won't shame her by valuing charms that are inesti- 
 mable.' 
 
 "At this she muttered, wringing her hands, 'Diced 
 for as a slave,' and, growing cold and haughty as a 
 martyred saint, drooped her lovely eyes, and the rosf s 
 on her cheeks became lillies. 
 
 "So I said hurriedly, 'Make my bet for me, 
 gintlemen, and put it high. ' 
 
 " They decided that I must risk all I had won against 
 her. 
 
 "'Murdher! she's not worth that much,' shrieked 
 Lanty. 
 
 "'Shut your lying mouth, ye scoundrel!' cried I. 
 ' She's worth the earth to me.' 
 
 " So we prepared to throw. My heart was in my mouth
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 35 
 
 as Ducroc handled the dice, but Lanty whispered in my 
 ear: 'Look out! he's chatin'! he's changin' the bones on 
 ye!' 
 
 "Then I knew I had him. 
 
 " Even as he made his throw four infernal sixes I 
 put my hands on the dice and said: 'Captain Ducroc, 
 ye're a chate and a scoundrel ! ' 
 
 "With that he sprung, not for my throat, but for the 
 dice that would prove my words; but I held him off 
 with one hand on his gizzard, and tossed the cubes to 
 the officers gathered round, and they, testing them, 
 gave a gasp of horror. Robbers that they were, 
 they could not stomach a gintleman's chatin' at the 
 gambling table ; so they declared me the man of honor 
 the victor! 
 
 " ' Not yet ! ' gasps Ducroc, and in a second his sword 
 was out. But mine was out, too, and parried his first 
 wild lunge. 
 
 " In a moment our blades were knocked up by the 
 others ; but after a little consultation they decided it 
 best for us to fight it out. 
 
 " I might have stood on me honor, for he had been 
 caught chatin', but we didn't care very much for eti- 
 quette when on a foray in Flanders. Besides, I 
 thought for her sake that he had better be out of the 
 way. 
 
 " As we threw off our cuirasses and cavalry jackets 
 my second, as he handed me "my sword, whispered: 
 " Dillon, beware his lunge over the arm. Ducroc is the 
 deadliest swordsman m the army of the Rhine.' ' 
 
 "And Lanty hearing this commenced to wring his 
 hands and groan. But just before we engaged he said 
 to my ear: ' P!ay him quiet, Major dear, for God's sake, 
 till I flash the blaze in his face! ' 
 
 "I couldn't understand his hint, for divil a blaze 
 could I see as Ducroc and I faced each other! The 
 camp fire had smouldered down to ashes and embers. 
 
 " Then in the half darkness our blades crossed. Never 
 had I faced such a fencer! Time after time I tried 
 each trick of the sword I knew ami it 7c'>rs parried ! 
 Before me was ;i wrist of steel springs, an arm of iron 
 and riposte quicker than lightning and every time his 
 point came straight for my heart.
 
 36 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " It was like fighting with a ghost, as we moved about 
 in the dim glow of the camp fire. 
 
 " I was growing tired. Ducroc was smiling a deadly, 
 cold, victorious smile. The perspiration of despair was 
 on me as I thought of the girl's fate with me dead. 
 
 " The glare of the flickering camp fire scarcely flashes 
 on our dancing blades. Then Lanty whispers: ' Get the 
 wind at your back, Major dear, before he finishes ye! ' 
 
 " With a last effort I circled round the fire till I felt 
 the breeze cool the back of my burning neck. 
 
 "Suddenly Lanty throws a heavy branch of wood on 
 to the embers. Up flashes the blaze blown by the wind 
 into Ducroc's triumphant eyes! 
 
 "With that flash I lunge my one last trick en tierce; 
 for one second the glimmer dazes him, and in that sec- 
 ond I run Ducroc through the body up to my sword hilt, 
 as dead a man as ever died in uniform. 
 
 " Disengaging my blade the warrior became the cour- 
 tier. I stepped to the captive of me dice box and me 
 sword, who had looked on, her beautiful eyes dazed with 
 horror, and making her a bow in my neatest style, said : 
 ' Madam, honor me by considering me your brother till 
 I have the pleasure of placing you safe in France !' 
 
 "At the word 'brother, ' there was a snicker from 
 some of the wild young divils of cavalry officers; but I 
 soon stopped that nonsense by adding: 'And the man 
 who doesn't treat ye as if ye were the sister of O'Brien 
 Dillon, ANSWERS TO ME WITH HIS LIFE! ' for the dacent 
 ones among us respected me sentiments, and the 
 others me lunge en tierce. 
 
 "The girl looked at me with unbelieving, astonished 
 eyes. Finally she muttered : ' Ye heard my offer to that 
 dead ruffian?' 
 
 " 'Yes! ' 
 
 " ' You will take me safe to France?' she faltered, ' for 
 ten thousand crowns?' turning such grateful eyes on me 
 that their beauty caused me to anticipate myself. 
 
 " 'Yes,' cried I, ' but not for ten thousand crowns, nor 
 twenty thousand but only for one smile from your pret- 
 ty face!' Then I whispered, 'And one little 'yes* from 
 your swate lips, for by the blessing of God and the bless- 
 ing of the priest, I'll make ye Madame O'Brien Dillon as 
 soon as we cross the frontier!'
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 37 
 
 "Then oh the blushes of her! Rosebuds were lillies 
 to her cheeks. But the next moment she grew very 
 pale, and commanding herself, she placed a little confid- 
 ing, though trembling hand in mine, and answered : 
 ' Swear to make good your promise ! ' 
 
 " ' I made you two promises! ' said I, ' one to get you 
 safe to the French lines, and the other to make you 
 Madame O'Brien Dillon. And by my sword I'll make 
 'em both good!' 
 
 " At this she hung her head. 
 
 "So to put away her embarrassment, I playfully 
 remarked: 'Just tell me your present name, sweetheart, 
 so I can address ye convaniently until after the cere- 
 mony.' 
 
 " But at this time the bugle interfered with my love- 
 making, sounding: 'Boots and saddles!' and I had only 
 time to put her into the coach, to which Lanty had har- 
 nessed the four horses. 
 
 "But as he was bringing out the maid servant, and 
 took some little time to do it, the rascal, I got two 
 more seconds with my sweetheart. So I suddenly gave 
 her two lover's kisses, whispering, 'I haven't time to 
 talk to ye now, darling, so keep these for me, and be 
 sure ye return them at the next stopping place. ' 
 
 " Then away we went again, I riding alongside of my 
 lady love's coach, like a knight of old. And by the 
 blessing of God, that night we escaped from and out- 
 marched the thirty squadroons of dragoons Prince Eugene 
 had sent after us, for with such a treasure in my posses- 
 sion I was mortally afraid of meeting the enemy 
 then. 
 
 " That very march we got into Namur, about two 
 o'clock in the morning. There I had a little talk with 
 her, tired as I was, having hardly closed my eyes for 
 four days. 
 
 " Then she told me her name was Hilda Van Hoist, 
 and that her father and mother were both dead. 
 
 " 'God bless 'em! 'laughed I. 'I always loved orphans!' 
 for her beauty made me crazy with joy at me luck. 
 
 " Next she informed me her uncle was a great banker 
 and money changer, one John Lauriston (hesitating a 
 little over the name), a Scotc.hman, her mother having 
 come from that country; that her uncle was in Paris,
 
 38 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 where she was journeying to join him, when to her 
 astonishment, she was captured but a few miles out of 
 Brussels. Then she begged me as I loved my mother, to 
 remember my words to her, and to take her safe to 
 France unharmed and scathless. 
 
 " 'There's no need of remembering my mother,' says 
 I, 'when I look at ye ! By the body of St. Peter, I'd 
 take the future Madame O'Brien Dillon through all the 
 dangers of both armies, safe into France! Now, since 
 ye won't return me the two kisses I gave ye,' for she 
 was very bashful and blushing, which only added to her 
 charm and her beauty, ' I'll add two more to the 
 account!' Which I did, and came from her presence 
 happy as a gineral after he has captured a town. 
 
 "In the ante-room of the inn I met Mr. Lanty. 
 
 " ' What are ye doing here ?' says I. 
 
 " 'Like master, like man! ' answers he. 'The future 
 Mrs. O'Brien Dillon has a very pretty maid servant 
 one Rosalie Lutin.' 
 
 "Then he says to me: ' By me soul, Major! never let 
 your lady get away from ye ! Rosalie tells me her 
 mistress is a member of the very richest trading family 
 in Europe. They've more money than dukes.' 
 
 "But love was in my soul, and I wasn't thinking of 
 lucre. 
 
 "Two days afterwards I got my sweetheart safe 
 through the lines, and put her down in the little town 
 of Aries, five leagues to the rear of DoQay, in as elegant 
 quarters as any lady of the place, for I had come back 
 a rich man from my spoilation of the Low Countries. 
 
 "From there Hilda would have journeyed on direct 
 to Paris, but I didn't propose my darling should get any 
 further from me, so Lanty and I, during the journey, 
 had taken possession of all the future Madame O'Brien 
 Dillon's baggage and wealth, I leading her to suppose 
 they had been lost in a desperate fight with out-posts. 
 
 "In fact, I only saved for her, according to my account, 
 two dresses, for the clothes Hilda wore were of such 
 superior quality and richness that I was frightened she 
 might pawn one or two of them, and get money enough 
 to take her on her way. And as I considered myself even 
 at that time not only her protector, but her lord and 
 master as well, I said the future Madame O'Brien Dillon
 
 A PRINCKSS ol' PARIS. 39 
 
 should take no more journeys without me by her 
 side. 
 
 "Then she forwarded a letter by post to her uncle in 
 Paris, telling him of her whereabouts, and asking him 
 for money and instructions as to how she should reach 
 him. This was addressed to John Lauriston, care 
 Monsieur Poisson, Rue Dauphin, Paris. 
 
 "About this time we cavalrymen were having easy work 
 of it, the infantry being very busy with the siege of 
 1 )ouay, which was getting along very nicely. Day 
 after day and evening after evening, I journeyed 
 from our lines to visit my sweetheart, and press her 
 promise upon her. 
 
 "But she put me off, urging that she must have her 
 guardian's consent, but not to doubt her for the faith 
 of Heaven not to doubt her. Was I not her savior, 
 her preserver, her dear champion, her beloved knight? 
 
 "Every time I saw her she seemed more beauti- 
 ful than ever, the fatigue of the journey having 
 gone from her face, and the two dresses I had left her 
 being of silk brocade, and furbelows worthy of a princess 
 of the blood. She was only nineteen, with the figure of a 
 sylph, and the beauty of a saint and a siren combined; 
 hand, arms and neck soft and white as swan's down, 
 and a pair of feet and ankles that for'smallness and 
 beauty couldn't be matched this side of Seville. 
 
 "After a few days my heart getting sick with delay - 
 mg, I suggested would she postpone the great honor of 
 becoming an O'Brien Dillon, waiting for the word of a 
 gold broker or money changer? ' Don't keep me long- 
 ing, darling! Let me elevate you to the rank of a 
 major's bride,' whispered I into the delicate mother-of- 
 pearl ear she turned to me. 
 
 "Then she astounded me. She answered, proud as 
 a peacock: 'Have I not rank? Am I not the niece of 
 one of the richest men in Europe? Mv UNCLE is THE 
 
 GRKATKST BANKER IN THE WORM)!' 
 
 "At which I had to fight down a laugh. Bankersand 
 the O'Brien Dillons! 
 
 "But Hilda declared to me her uncle was a very 
 great man. That he had been the foremost jeweler and 
 banker in London, until he had killed his man in a duel 
 (which did him more honor than the banking, I think).
 
 4O A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 As his opponent had been a lord, he had been compelled 
 to leave England, and was now engaged in financial 
 operations for his Majesty of France. 
 
 " Sometimes I thought by the way she hesitated over 
 her uncle's name that Lauriston was an assumed cog- 
 nomen for some purpose or other. 
 
 "But, though I argued my case like a Dublin attorney, 
 again she put me off, and that evening Lanty discovered 
 from Rosalie (he courting the maid while I courted the 
 mistress), that Hilda had again sent another post marked 
 ' Very urgent ' to her uncle in Paris. 
 
 "This time I determined to bring matters to a head, 
 for her beauty was so great she could not walk the street 
 without being noticed, and a number of the officers 
 dashing Versailles dandies from the headquarters of the 
 Marechal, the Due de Villars were commencing to put 
 their eyes upon her, and these glances, I had a horrible 
 thought, were returned. 
 
 " So a few mornings afterwards I said: ' Have ye no 
 dispatches from your uncle yet?" 
 
 " ' No!' answered she. 
 
 "The next day I asked the same question, with the 
 same reply. Her uncle's silence seemed to anger her, 
 at which I chuckled. 
 
 "Then I became as impassioned as young Romeo in 
 the play, and she said to me: ' My uncle cares not for 
 me, or my future. I place them in your hands!' 
 
 " ' Done!' cried I, and astounded her by bolting from 
 the room. 
 
 " In five minutes I was back again, and at me heels 
 a priest, the sight of whom gave her a great start, 
 and she faltered : ' A day or two longer a little more 
 time!' 
 
 " ' Now /' cried I, for I saw she was a woman to be 
 won like some fortresses by quick assault, not by slow 
 capitulation. 
 
 "Me impetuosity overpowered her, and though she 
 pleaded for just another day, I said : ' The priest doesn't 
 leave the room alive until ye are Madame O'Brien 
 Dillon!' 
 
 "NEITHER HE DID! 
 
 "And oh the joy of it! After she had given herself 
 to me, and became me wife, I thought I had an angel,
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 41 
 
 and my two days' honeymoon was the delight of 
 O'Brien Dillon's heart! " 
 
 As he says the last there are tears in the Irish soldier 
 of fortune's eyes. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 UNCLE JOHNNY. 
 
 A MOMENT after he tosses tears and emotion aside by 
 a hurried dash of his hand across his face and goes 
 rapidly on with his narrative. 
 
 " But the third evening, riding in from my quarters 
 before Douay, I met Hilda walking with her maid, at the 
 outskirts of the town. 
 
 " Pale and trembling she said: ' I have come here to 
 intercept you, dear O'Brien, before you see my uncle.' 
 
 " 'He is here ?' 
 
 " 'Yes.' 
 
 " ' Well, he's come the day after the Fair,' laughed I, 
 chucking her under her pretty little chin, after the 
 pleasant manner of a fond and doting husband. 
 
 "'Yes,' murmured she, 'he received neither of 
 my packets until four days ago, being absent in Italy on 
 business of his Majesty. Then he came quickly to me. 
 Don't tell him of our marriage! ' 
 
 " ' Why not ? ' said I. ' Ye're not ashamed of being 
 Madame O'Brien Dillon ? ' 
 
 "'No! but Uncle John will not like it! From the 
 words he has even now dropped, he has other views for 
 me more ambitious ones! ' 
 
 " 'More ambitious than to make ye one of the House 
 of O'Brien Dillon ?.' answered I. ' Faith, where will ye 
 find a finer family ? ' 
 
 " But she reasoned and plead with me, and begged in 
 the sweetest voice in the world, ' Not for a day or two! ' 
 and I agreed. 
 
 "By this time we had come into the house. Here 
 she introduced me as her preserver, to a man, the like 
 of whom I have never seen before, and God help me! I 
 hope I'll never see again. Not that he wasn't haiul 
 some not that his features didn't have more the
 
 42 A .PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 expression of a general than a tradesman. Not that 
 his manners were not more those of a duke than a bour- 
 geois for he had as pretty a style as ye'd see in any 
 court of Europe. In fact, from his communications to 
 me afterwards, I judged he had seen most of them. But 
 there was a subtle something about him something 
 always behind his grayish eyes, that for the life of me I 
 could not make out, and I am never partial to the 
 unknown. 
 
 " He had brought quite a retinue with him from 
 Paris, a couple of postilions and an Italian valet with 
 whom Lanty took up very rapidly. Besides that he had 
 his own table service with him ; silver and gold more 
 suited to a prince of the blood than to a tradesman. 
 He had also selected the best accommodation in the Inn, 
 and as he was very free and liberal with his money, the 
 landlord and all the serving people about ran to his beck 
 and call like drummer boys after the drum-major. 
 
 ' 'He appeared to take a liking to me ; insinuated I was a 
 fine fellow, a brave man, and as fine a gintleman in my uni- 
 form as he had ever seen at the Courts of St. James or 
 Versailles, and lots of other things that pleased me very 
 much. We soon became great cronies, Monsieur 
 Lauriston remarking that he should remain for a few days 
 in Aries to rest after the dust of posting over country 
 roads. 
 
 " ' My niece,' he says, ' has told me all about ye! ' 
 At which I couldn't help chuckling to myself, enjoying 
 Hilda's roguish blushes. 
 
 "So that evening the bottle passed between us 
 pretty steadily, and we fell to gambling, for he was the 
 grandest gambler I ever met in me life. We had a 
 great night of it. He told me more stories of court 
 life than I had ever heard before. And by my faith he 
 seemed to know counts, marquises, dukes,' princes and 
 even kings not as their servant and man of affairs, 
 but as their intimate friend and dearly beloved. Then 
 he discussed finance, as if he knew all about it as I 
 think he must have, for divil a wrap did he seem to 
 respect a million than I would a livre. Altogether he 
 was so oily, subtle, and insinuating that he was fit to be 
 a diplomatist to the Turks, and they are the greatest 
 liars in Europe. Travelers have told me that the
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 43 
 
 Chinese and Russians beat 'em, but they are barbarians, 
 and don't count. 
 
 "But the next day, as 1 was dressing to ride over, 
 Lanty, who had brought in me shaving water, had tears 
 in his eyes. ' What are ye crying for, ye great 
 gossoon?' growled I. 
 
 " 'Rosalie!' muttered he, for the lad was very much 
 in love with Madame O'Brien Dillon's maid servant. 
 
 " ' What's the matter with her?' I asked. 
 
 " ' She's going away to Paris!' 
 
 " ' Not till I and her mistress go!' 
 
 " 'But Rosalie told me her mistress was going to-day. 
 Shure didn't yer Honor know?' 
 
 "'Pooh! Nonsense! ' said I. 'It's the uncle that's 
 going not the niece. Ye've been drinking brandy, 
 Mr. Lanty!' 
 
 "Though I kept my lips from trembling, I felt as if 
 I needed brandy myself, and as 1 poured out my glass, 
 the bottle rattled against it, the hand of O'Brien Dillon 
 shaking for the first time in his life; because a sudden 
 fear had come into me that my Hilda, the wife of my 
 bosom, might be desavin' me. 
 
 "But it was 'Boots and Saddles!' with me very 
 quickly, and I galloped to Aries, nearly killing my horse, 
 and got there long before I was expected, for Uncle 
 Lauriston apparently didn't enjoy my coming. 
 
 "However, we chatted and gambled a little, and all 
 that day I waited, though once or twice my considerate 
 uncle hinted I might be expected at the camp. 
 
 "Though I sat on and on, I never had a chance of a 
 word in private with Madame Dillon, who looked at im- 
 a little nervously, I thought. 
 
 " Finally like a flash it came out! 
 
 "Monsieur Lauriston's valet entered and said hur- 
 riedly: ' Your trunks and your niece's are ready! Tin- 
 coach will be at- the door in half an hour. ' 
 
 " ' To go where ?' said I. 
 
 "'To Paris!' remarked the uncle, growing slightly 
 pale, I thought, about the gills. 
 
 " 'Then I hope ye'll have a pleasant journey!' remarked 
 I with an easy off-hand manner, for perhaps I had 
 been drinking a little brandy between times to krrp me
 
 44 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 spirits up, 'And I and Madame O'Brien Dillon will wish 
 you a very pleasant journey ! ' 
 
 "'Madame O'Brien Dillon?' said he. 'I did not 
 know you were married. Is she in town ? ' 
 
 "'Faith!' said I, 'she's by your side, and looking 
 very red and blushing now. Permit me to have the 
 honor of introducing her, and asking your blessing. 
 Make a courtesy to your uncle, Mrs. O'Brien Dillon.' 
 
 "Which, plucking up courage, she did. 
 
 " Then he laughed, and said : ' Bless ye, my children !' 
 though there was a kind of a crack in his voice. With 
 that he went on smiling and affirmed he had known it 
 ever since he arrived in town. That his niece's maid 
 had felt it upon her conscience to tell him, and that he 
 liked me very much, and he blessed us with all his heart! 
 
 "Just as he was saying this, in runs Mademoiselle 
 Rosalie herself, crying hurriedly: 'Your traveling- 
 dress ' but the look on my bride's face stopped her. 
 Then something awful got into me. 
 
 "Up I rose and remarked : ' Permit me to conduct ye 
 to your room, Madame O'Brien Dillon ! ' offering my arm 
 in my politest manner. ' I would like a few words with ye ! ' 
 
 "Her uncle was about to interpose, but I added: 
 'Your authority ceased when the church gave me mine! 
 Make way for me, sir! ' and I put me hand on me sword 
 and me voice was as commanding as when I cry 
 ' Charge ! ' to a battalion. 
 
 "Something in my eye caused Hilda to obey me. 
 She took my arm and walked with me to her chamber, 
 though her steps were faltering and I noticed the 
 little hand on my arm trembled as I closed the door 
 behind us and turned the key in the lock. 
 
 "Then another shock went through me, for laid 
 out for use was the traveling dress I had first seen 
 her in. 'One question, Hilda,' said I, 'and answer it 
 true, or, by me soul! when I go to the front, I'll lock 
 you up in a convent. I know an abbess who will keep 
 you safe for me until my return ! Were ye going to 
 desert me? ' 
 
 "Perhaps what came after was a judgment on me 
 for my stern words the first ones I had ever used to 
 her but the thought that the wife of my bosom might 
 be desaving me, made me almost out of my reason.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 45 
 
 " On this she uttered a cry: ' Desert you? Leave you? 
 Go to Paris without your consent without your per- 
 mission, husband of my heart?' Then she fell on me 
 neck with loving kisses and tender tears and a beauty 
 that could turn a man's head by a glance, till I laugh- 
 ingly said: ' How about the traveling dress?' for I was 
 very easily cajoled by her eyes which were dark when 
 full of passion ; blue when merry. 
 
 ' ' 'Oh, that?' she laughed. 'That is the one upon which 
 I was showing my uncle the blood of the man who had 
 insulted me Captain Ducroc the man against whom 
 you risked your life for me that night. These drops fell 
 from your sword, dear husband, as you first told me 
 that you loved me ! ' 
 
 "Her words made me happier than a field marshal. 
 I ran back, laughing, and clapped old Lauriston on 
 the shoulder. 
 
 "Then he laughed back at rne, and said: ' I must 
 go on my way now, nephew, but I thank Heaven I'm 
 leaving my niece with a husband that has the spirit to 
 command her. You'll find her a little wayward, me 
 boy ! ' A moment later he asked : ' Have you con- 
 sidered when you go to the front, and I'm far away, 
 who'll take care of Hilda? ' 
 
 " ' Perhaps, then, I'll send her to Paris to you,' said 
 I, with a grin, 'and let her play the fine lady at court.' 
 
 "'Have you money enough for that?' he queried, 
 rather eagerly. 
 
 " 'Money enough to give Madame O'Brien Dillon a 
 coach and four!' I cried. 'I have sixty thousand 
 crowns on deposit with the Commissary General me 
 spoil of the Low Countries! ' 
 
 "On this information we had a glass together, so I 
 told him how I had won not only the booty of Captain 
 Ducroc, but how Lanty and I had pillaged from his 
 niece something like twenty thousand crowns' worth of 
 jewelry and grxvgaws to compel the future Madame 
 O'Brien Dillon to keep IKT bargain with me, and pre- 
 vent her running away to him in Paris. 
 
 "As I told him of all the money I had, a peculiar 
 subtle something came into his face something that
 
 46 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 might have warned anyone but a fool made confiding by 
 too great happiness. 
 
 "A few minutes after, a packet was brought to Mon- 
 sieur Lauriston from Paris, upon reading which he said 
 that there was no need of haste and he would remain a 
 day or two longer with us, to see what a happy family 
 we made, ordering his coach to be put back in the 
 stable. 
 
 " That evening my uncle remarked he should like to 
 take his niece, with my permission, to Valenciennes for 
 a day or two, before returning to Paris. 
 
 'To Valenciennes? ' said I. ' That is almost in the 
 enemy's country.' 
 
 " ' Oh, no! ' replied he, ' Valenciennes is not in their 
 lines. Besides I have heard the Austrians are gradually 
 being driven back by your brave soldiers! ' 
 
 " 'There's no doubt of that,' returned I, 'but I don't 
 think it's exactly the place to risk Madame O'Brien 
 Dillon ! ' 
 
 " But he overcame my objections, saying he had a 
 very beautiful chateau near the town as well as a little 
 business to transact there. That now he was near gave 
 him the opportunity. 
 
 " ' You're not afraid of visiting your wife there, eh, 
 Major O'Brien Dillon? ' laughed he. 
 
 "I said: 'I'm not afraid of visiting my wife in in 
 Heaven ! ' I changed the word as I said it ; the name of 
 the hotter place was first on me tongue. 
 
 " So the next day, after I had obtained leave, we 
 journeyed to Valenciennes, and made a very pleasant 
 day of it there, taking a promenade of the town, where I 
 purchased some of that lace that women wear out their 
 eyes making, to adorn the beautiful figure of my bride, 
 whose looks were swater and more alluring and siren- 
 like than ever before. 
 
 "By the blessing of Heaven I had taken with me 
 Lanty, who was as much in love with the maid Rosalie 
 as I with the mistress. 
 
 "Late in the afternoon we went to Monsieur Lauris- 
 ton's chateau, as pretty a little half villa half castle as 
 I ever walked into. After a perfect jewel of a dinner, 
 for my uncle played the host to a nicety, Hilda sitting 
 beside me, and making me very happy by her beauty,
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 47 
 
 for never in my life did I see her as lovely as the even- 
 ing I lost her. 
 
 "She was dressed en princess, as Madame O'Brien 
 Dillon should be, her white brocaded silk not half as 
 white and shining as her fairy shoulders. Her hair, 
 like the gold dust of Arabia with the sun shining through 
 it, and her eyes roguishly blue and bewitching, though 
 they seemed to droop when mine looked love into hers. 
 
 "After desert she laughingly proposed to leave us 
 gintlemen to our tobacco and cards. 
 
 " ' Pooh! stay and see us play pharo, ' remarked her 
 uncle. ' I am going to teach the new game to the 
 Major.' 
 
 " 'Faith, tobacco needn't drive you from me, Hilda,' 
 laughed I. 'You told me you liked smoked mustach- 
 ios before marriage; so sit down by your husband's 
 side, my darling, and give me luck.' 
 
 "At this Madame O'Brien Dillon said she would 
 help me play, and tossing herself most coquettishly and 
 alluringly by my side, her white hand arranged the 
 stakes for me. 
 
 "So we fell to gambling again, Monsieur Lauriston 
 and myself, at the new game that they call pharo, 
 which was invented by the divil to make rich men poor, 
 Uncle John kindly taking the bank, and the stakes grew 
 heavier and heavier, and I lost and Ipst, Hilda shriek- 
 ing with laughter at me bad luck. 
 
 " 'Faith,' said I, 'I don't see why you should enjoy 
 it. The poorer your husband gets, the fewer j'-wels 
 and gewgaws he'll be able to buy you, my beauty.' 
 
 "' Pshaw! ' she cried, in roguish tones, 'Isn't it all 
 in the family ? ' 
 
 " And Monsieur Lauriston said: ' Major, resign from 
 the army and I'll make your fortune my personal 
 endeavor in Paris. Pass the bottle. Let's play another 
 case ! ' 
 
 "Just then said I, 'What's that scratching at the 
 window ? ' 
 
 "The card dropped from Uncle Johnny's hand, but 
 his niece cried, ' That must be one of the dogs trying 
 to get in. I'll see about it, ' and jumped up to leave 
 the room. 
 
 "At the door Hilda paused and looked back at me;
 
 48 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 her eyes seemed as if she was about to say something. 
 They wandered from me to her uncle, but as they 
 rested on him she appeared to change her mind, and said 
 with laughing piquancy: 'Adieu, bad luck husband. 
 Save enough to buy us breakfast to-morrow.' Then 
 tossing me a kiss she floated through the door, while 
 her uncle and I went at the cards again. 
 
 " Then the divil's own luck came to me. Quarter of 
 an hour more and all me plunder of the Low Countries had 
 left me, and I had given Monsieur Lauriston an order 
 on the Commissary General for everything I had in the 
 world, and was only plain Major O'Brien Dillon, of 
 De Crissey's Regiment of Dragoons, without a /out's d'or 
 in my pocket. 
 
 "But still I thought myself rich I had my darling 
 wife, she loved me, and I was happy. 
 
 "Just then there came more scratching at the win- 
 dow. 
 
 "'It's that cursed dog again,' laughed Uncle 
 Johnny. ' I'll go out and see what Hilda has done 
 with the beast.' So he left me, going into the front 
 hallway, following the steps of my wife, putting very 
 carefully in his pocketbook his plunder of the night. 
 
 " As he did so, Mr. Lanty came in from the kitchen, 
 bringing with him some whiskey and water, crying 
 jovially, ' Here's yer Honor's night-cap! ' Then seeing 
 we were alone, a sudden change came into his voice. 
 He whispered in my ear: 'The Austrians are surround- 
 ing the house, but our horses are saddled outside.' 
 
 "After an old campaigner's habit I always sat with 
 sword and pistols. I followed Mr. Lanty quietly into 
 the kitchen, and opening the door found myself in the 
 darkness face to face with a couple of Austrian hussars. 
 Not recognizing my uniform in the gloom, one of 
 them, an officer, said: ' This is the house, I believe.' 
 
 " The thought of treachery shot like a stream of fire 
 through my soul as I whispered 'Right ye are,' and 
 passed my sword through his body, while Lanty, who 
 was at my side, pistolled the private soldier, and sent 
 him after his master. 
 
 " ' Quick, to the horses,' Lanty whispered. 
 
 "But I said, ' No! Back and defend my wife.' 
 
 " ' There's no danger to her, but there's death to us,'
 
 A PRINCKSS ()F PARIS. 49 
 
 he whispered. 'Sure, she knows all about it. Didn't 
 her maid servant confess to me only three minutes ago 
 that the Austrians were sent for last night, Lauriston's 
 Italian valet carrying word to the commander of the 
 German outposts. Quick, they're coming. Follow 
 me to the horses. ' 
 
 " With my brain in a whirl, I sprang after him, for I 
 saw the Austrians pouring into the grounds and up to 
 the front door. A moment after we were mounted and 
 cleared the fence Irish fox-hunter fashion. Three or 
 four were after us, but they would not risk the jump, and 
 had to go round by the gate. 
 
 "Then I heard Hilda's cry. Good God! was it 
 despair ? 
 
 " I turned to cut my way back through the troopers 
 to save her or die with her, but Lanty seized my bridle 
 and implored, ' She's playing the Banshee on you. 
 She's alluring you to destruction. I saw her talking to 
 the Austrians myself.' 
 
 "Til not believe ye,' I groaned, and turned my 
 horse again towards the gate. But just at this moment 
 I saw her uncle Lauriston, the Scotchman, in the light 
 coming from the hall door, talking to two or three of 
 the Austrians, and pointing out the way I went. 
 
 "Then I knew, traitoress or true, Hilda was safe ; 
 and made up my mind to live that I might measure it 
 out to the -man who had ruined me in purse, and 
 perchance ruined me in heart. So I thundered away, 
 pursued by twenty Austrian dragoons and hussars, but 
 Lanty and I out-ran them, by the blessing of God, and 
 though a few bullets whistled about us, came into camp 
 unscathed about two o'clock in the morning. 
 
 " By four I had permission from headquarters, and 
 taking a couple of squadroons, galloped back to the 
 place. If I had put my hand upon my dear Uncle 
 Johnny I would have hanged him without a court 
 martial to one of his own trees. But I found the 
 chateau deserted. They told me in Valenciennes that 
 Mr. Lauriston and a lady had passed through en route 
 for Paris very early in the morning. 
 
 "It was late in the afternoon when I got back to our 
 camp before Douay, when it suddenly occurred to me I 
 might at least save my money. Up I hurried to the
 
 50 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 Commissary General's to stop payment on the order I 
 had given Lauriston for my riches. But even as I 
 entered, one of the clerks said to me, ' I presume, 
 Major Dillon, you've been investing your spoils of war 
 in Paris.' 
 
 " 'What makes you think that ? ' gasped I. 
 
 "'Why, Monsieur Lauriston, the great financier, 
 presented your order quite early in the day, and carried 
 off your plunder of the Low Countries." 
 
 " ' You know him then ? ' asked I very eager. 
 
 " 'No ; never saw him before to-day.' 
 
 "'Then, what makes you think him a great 
 financier ? ' 
 
 " 'Oh! from his conversation. He knows more about 
 exchange and the values of rare coins than any expert I 
 ever met.' 
 
 "'Oh yes!' I replied, quite easily, 'My L^ncle 
 Johnny is a capitalist. I presume he had my wife 
 with him ! ' 
 
 "'Then let me .congratulate you,' said the young 
 man. ' I noticed in the coach the most beautiful 
 woman I ever saw.' 
 
 " ' That's the description of Madame O'Brien Dillon,' 
 laughed I; but it was a very yellowish laugh, as I 
 rushed from the room to headquarters, to try and get 
 leave so that I could pursue my Uncle Johnny. For I 
 had made up my mind to overtake him, and to have his 
 life, if necessary, to bring my wife back with me, where 
 I would have taken precious safe care of her. 
 
 "But, divil any leave could I get, and they sent me 
 on a scouting expedition to the front, and kept me very 
 busy till the end of the campaign. Then, the winter 
 coming on, I said: ' I'll try and find her in Paris,' and 
 applied for leave again ; but there was no leave for me 
 and I stayed in winter quarters eating my heart out. 
 
 " Here an idea struck me Lanty could get leave 
 though his master couldn't. I sent him to Paris to make 
 inquiries as to the health of Madame O'Brien Dillon. 
 
 "But he was brought back to me nearly beaten to a 
 jelly. It seems that he arrived at the capital all right, 
 and had located Rosalie, the maid servant, and the 
 Italian valet, Malavello, and was getting along swim- 
 mingly, when, one night, four bullies fell upon him in
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 51 
 
 the dark streets of Paris, and cudgelled poor Lanty in- 
 sensible. 
 
 "After that, all he cared for was getting back to me 
 alive. One of the ruffians, he told me, when he was able 
 to talk, was the Italian valet, for he heard him chuckle, 
 while he was beating him to death: ' Take this with 
 Madame O'Brien Dillon's compliments! ' 
 
 " Shortly after Lanty's return from his unfortunate 
 journey I received a note that set my heart beating. 
 I can tell ye without producing the paper, for its words 
 are burnt on my heart. 
 
 " It read as follows: 
 
 " ' Do not, for your own safety, attempt to follow me. Above 
 all, as you value your life, do not visit Paris. HILDA." 
 
 "-That's a dare I won't take. If I live, I will visit 
 Paris. Oh, Raymond ! sometimes thinking the matter 
 over, I guess Lauriston may not have been my villainous 
 Uncle Johnny's real name. When I think of his influ- 
 ence court influence, it must be keeping me without 
 leave of absence all winter, and the style in which he 
 lived, his plate and jewels; sometimes, by my soul! 
 I wonder if I may not in my arms have held as 
 my wife perhaps a princess of the blood. But when I 
 dream of her I go like mad, so I'll finish my story. 
 
 "As I thought of nothing else all winter, I was glad 
 when the spring opened and we got to soldiering again. 
 And then the divil's luck seemed to come upon 
 De Crissey's Regiment of Horse. We lost four hundred 
 men, as I told you, during the assault on Landau, and 
 four hundred more in that beastly swamp outside the 
 place. Then there being no regiment of De Crissey's, 
 I was transferred to Clancarthy's Irish Foot. 
 
 "With that, the same black fortune seemed to come on 
 them. They got all the hot and deadly places, and 
 now there's only twenty-five men and myself left alive. 
 
 "Somehow I think it is all owing to my cursed 
 uncle, John Lauriston that in trying to murder me, he 
 has murdered my two regiments, and by the blessing of 
 God I have escaped to avenge them. Sometimes I 
 think a woman knows all about these infamies, and 
 that woman my wife! I try to believe her angel, but 
 divil will come in my mind. But I try to live on and
 
 52 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 fight it out, for I know one man's my enemy; that 
 same John Lauriston, gold dealer and money changer to 
 his Majesty, who, after plundering me of the fine 
 fortune I had made in honorable warfare in the Low 
 Countries, would have sold my life to the Austrians, to 
 get me out of his path that night at Valenciennes. 
 
 "That's my story, Raymond. That's who I think 
 are my enemies. Now tell me about your wife, and 
 who you think are yours." 
 
 But Raymond d'Arnac shakes his curly head and 
 laughs. " I have no wife. I have no enemies." 
 
 "Ah, then, ye must be one of the other kind," cries 
 the Major, excitedly. 
 
 "What other kind?" 
 
 "The rich men. The kind that dirty villain Lenoir 
 
 is using his power as Chief of Staff " Here 
 
 O'Brien Dillon suddenly checks himself and whispers 
 hurriedly, coming close to his companion: "But I 
 make no charges. I am simply going to tell ye a few 
 facts from which ye must draw your own inferences." 
 
 Then his voice grows sad as he mutters: "You 
 remember poor Raoul, the Marquis de Pasmontain?" 
 
 "Yes. As noble a young Frenchman as ever drew 
 sword," rejoins Raymond, astounded at the turn the 
 conversation has taken. 
 
 ' ' As noble and as rich a Frenchman as ever drew 
 sword," answers the Irishman. "He fell defending 
 the little bridge over the Meuse, his detachment 
 outnumbered four to one; and into his estates, valued 
 at 500,000 livres a year rents, in came his cousin, a 
 dirty little Parisian gambler, they tell me. Then ye 
 remember the Chevalier de Lavalle, killed at the assault 
 on a mined tower, with no more chance than a rat. " 
 
 "Yes, before Douay," answers D'Arnac. 
 
 "And rich, also," goes on the Major. "An income 
 of two hundred and fifty thousand livres rents, all 
 coming to his step-brother, one of the gambling cour- 
 tiers at Versailles. So also the Viscomte de Pressieu, 
 you recollect him?" 
 
 "He fell a month ago, defending the retreat from 
 Brisac. " 
 
 "With no cavalry to help him!" cries the Major, 
 "and richer than any of them. One hundred and fifty
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 53 
 
 thousand frits income. Who benefited by his death? 
 His step-mother, the notorious beauty and spendthrift 
 of the court, Madame de Cambray. Besides, I can 
 mention half a dozen more, all rich, and all with heirs 
 to be benefited greatly by their death, that fell not 
 altogether by the chances of battle, but by being placed 
 in situations where no gallantry could save them from 
 death by the enemy. And each time after his man fell, 
 Lenoir, though he has nothing more than his pay, has 
 had all the money he wants to squander at the gam- 
 bling table, or to use in his visits to the court, where, 
 they tell me, he lives as extravagantly as if he were a 
 sur-intendant of finance. Now, my boy, put two and 
 two together, and think for yourself. You have no 
 wife. You have a very pretty income, I am told, and 
 some day will have very much more. Who will gain by 
 your death ? " 
 
 But Raymond's face, at these last few words, grows 
 gloomy and agonized. He cries out: "Mother of 
 Heaven! I don't want to think! You have opened a 
 suggestion to me that makes me shudder. My God! 
 I'm too young to believe the man I love my own flesh 
 and blood plotting my taking off. For these are no 
 chances of battle you are talking of, but murders as 
 cruel and cowardly as the poison drops of the Borgias. " 
 Then he mutters: "For God's sake, don't let me think 
 more about it at all events not at present," and 
 suddenly remarks: "But to your business. You are 
 not rich." 
 
 " Not since I lost my spoils of the Low Countries! " 
 answers O'Brien Dillon grimly. 
 
 "Then why do you think Lenoir is plotting against 
 your life ?" 
 
 'Because he is Lauriston's instrument. " 
 
 ' You guess that? " 
 
 ' I know it. " 
 
 'Why?" 
 
 'Because on his return from Paris, at the open- 
 ing of this campaign, Gaston Lenoir, Count du Bourg's 
 Chief of Staff, had upon his table several of the golden 
 goblets and other pieces of plate that I lost to my kind 
 Uncle Johnny that night! " remarks Dillon grimly, "and 
 I know enough about my same uncle, John Lauriston, to
 
 54 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 know that he never pays his money without value 
 received." 
 
 "Then I will confront Lenoir with his treachery! " 
 cries Raymond, the enthusiasm and impetuosity of youth 
 blazing in his blue eyes. 
 
 "Not if you want to live!" answers Dillon very 
 gravely. " Gaston Lenoir is the deadliest swordsman in 
 France!" 
 
 " As deadly as Ducroc, whom you killed ? " returns 
 Raymond with a confident laugh. 
 
 "Worse! Besides you wouldn't have Mr. Lanty to 
 throw the fire in his face, as I did. Go to the Marechal. 
 Tell him the facts in my case, my boy. De Villars has 
 the true justice of a great soldier. Avoid any compli- 
 cation on my account with Lenoir. Promise me that, 
 or I won't let ye out of my sight. Because perchance 
 I'll never see ye again alive, and I can't afford to lose 
 my only friend now I've just gained him! " whispers the 
 Irish Major, with so much concern in his voice that D'Ar- 
 nac knows Lenoir's sword must be very deadly to cause 
 such warning from a tried soldier, who has faced death 
 on many a battlefield, in many a cavalry charge, in 
 many a desperate deed of assault and escalade. 
 
 "You have my word! " says the young man shortly, and 
 wringing the hand of this man, who has received injustice 
 for saving his life, the young Comte d'Arnac hurriedly 
 leaves the tent of the Irish Major, and, springing on his 
 horse, makes his way through the crowded military 
 streets of the French encampment towards the head- 
 quarters of its Marechal and Commander in Chief, the 
 pet of fortune and beloved of his Most Christian Majesty, 
 King Louis XIV., the Due de Villars. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE ONE CHANCE OF LIFE. 
 
 As HE RIDES, Raymond thinks of Dillon's sug- 
 gestion that his life is not bearing merely the natural 
 risks of battle, but also that of some plot instigated by 
 some one who will gain by his death. 
 
 Soon the high spirits natural to strong young man- 
 hood overcome these gloomy thoughts; he mutters:
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 55 
 
 "My cousin Charles absurd! impossible!" and devotes 
 his mind to contemplating his coming interview with 
 De Villars, and how he may best battle for the Irish 
 Major. 
 
 Thinking over this, he finds himself halted by the 
 sentries of the French Garde, who are on duty in front 
 of the Marechal's quarters. This is the handsome 
 summer residence of a rich German burgher, who has 
 fled before the war, leaving his goods and chattels 
 behind him. 
 
 Escorted by the sergeant of the guard, he walks up to 
 the house to find an aide-de-camp, who tells him that Mon- 
 sieur le Due is at present inspecting the town of Friburg. 
 
 " For which we may thank you, Monsieur le Colonel ! " 
 adds the officer, who has evidently heard of last night's 
 assault. 
 
 Half an hour after, the Duke's carriage drives up, for 
 that officer cannot mount his horse, the effect of a 
 wound received the preceding year. 
 
 The next instant the hearty tones of the old cam- 
 paigner cry: " Show our boy Colonel in! " and D'Arnac 
 finds himself confronting the most successful French 
 commander of that day. 
 
 The Marechal is in the good humor that always 
 attends success. He has thrashed Prince Eugene at 
 Denain, has got his hand on the town of Friburg, and 
 will soon have its mountain covered with forts, and is 
 fighting on that side of the Rhine on which all true 
 French soldiers like to fly their battle-flag the German 
 side. Naturally of a genial and hearty disposition, he 
 is even more genial now. Instead of the military salute 
 of ceremony, he holds out his hand, saying: " My boy, 
 your grand uncle, the great Turenne, taught me the art of 
 war. Your father rode by my side in the battle at 
 Friedlengen! Now, what can I do for you?" 
 
 Raymond, his cheeks flushing under this reception in 
 the presence of a staff brilliant both in names and 
 achievements, says shortly: "Thank you, Monsieur 
 le Marechal. I only ask a private interview of a 
 minute." 
 
 " With pleasure!" answers Hector de Villars, prompt- 
 ly leading the young man into an adjoining apartment. 
 "Now," he says, kindly and reassuringly, throwing off
 
 56 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 the difference in age and military rank between them, 
 " what can I do for the hero of last night? " 
 
 " Reward him! " 
 
 "You have been made colonel. Do you want to 
 jump from a captain to a general ? " laughs De Villars. 
 
 " Reward the true hero of last night! " 
 
 " I fail to understand you ! " remarks the Commander, 
 opening his eyes. "You do not refer to yourself ? " 
 
 " No; to Major O'Brien Dillon, of Clancarthy's Irish 
 Regiment of Foot." 
 
 "Humph!" grunts the Marechal, his face growing 
 cloudy. Then, stepping to the door, he says suddenly: 
 " The order book of to-day! That of Count du Bourg's 
 division ! " 
 
 In a moment he has this in his hand; the good nature 
 passes out of his face, and the sternness of military 
 discipline flashes in his eyes, as he says shortly: 
 "Major Dillon is under orders for court martial, for 
 deserting his command in front of the enemy. Did he 
 not desert his command ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " By going ahead of it. His command joined him in 
 the morning." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "When it overtook him. He charged the enemy one 
 hundred and fifty yards ahead of his men, and that one 
 hundred and fifty yards was so terrible his grenadiers 
 could not fight their way to him for two hours! " 
 
 "Diable!" remarks the Marechal. " This is a new 
 story to me. " Then he adds kindly: " Sit down, and 
 tell me all!" 
 
 This Raymond does, giving clearly, yet enthusiastic- 
 ally, the account of the Irish Major joining him in the 
 first bastion, and telling them that it was a mine under 
 their feet. That when the men had muttered "Back!" 
 O'Brien Dillon had cried " Forward /" and led them to 
 attack the second bastion the one that gave entry to 
 the town and how they had held it against Baron de 
 Arsch's Austrian Infantry. This is interspersed with 
 one or two of Lanty's remarks, that make the Marechal 
 chuckle. 
 
 Finally the boy concludes, carried away by the impet-
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 57 
 
 uosity of youth: " I wish no promotion for the affair of 
 last night, until justice is done to its true hero the 
 man who saved my life and gave you Friburg Major 
 O'Brien Dillon! " 
 
 "And it shall be! " answers the Marechal enthusiast- 
 ically. "Justice to the Major, and justice also to his 
 Irish servant! " For Raymond's words have carried 
 conviction to the heart of his father's old friend. 
 
 Then De Villars says more slowly: "Major Dillon 
 committed a military indiscretion that only success in 
 war warrants; had he failed, a court martial might have 
 taken his life. But he won! And egad! I'm too 
 much of a gamester myself to balk any man who risks 
 his life to win glory! " and going to the door, he 
 summons an aide-de-camp, saying: "Write instantly to 
 General du Bourg, directing him to cancel order of 
 court martial on Major no, Colonel O'Brien Dillon of 
 Clancarthy's Foot!" 
 
 " Colonel ? ' echoes Raymond. 
 
 "Of course you're a colonel did the Irishman 
 not do as well as you ? " laughs De Villars. 
 
 Then, after a moment's consideration, he turns to 
 Raymond and remarks: " From your account there is no 
 regiment of Clancarthy's Foot? " 
 
 " Only twenty-five men! " mutters -D'Arnac. 
 
 "And a colonel should have a regiment ! " suggests the 
 Marechal pleasantly. " The Count de Belleisle has just 
 been relieved from the Regiment of Alsace; " then com- 
 mands his secretary: " Make an order transferring 
 Colonel O'Brien Dillon from Clancarthy's Foot to the 
 Regiment of Alsace!" 
 
 Next turning towards Raymond, he says: "Will 
 that satisfy you, Colonel ? ' 
 
 " More! " cries the young man. " Now I am really the 
 happiest man in the army! " 
 
 " Except Lanty! " remarks De Villars, handing him 
 a slip of paper, upon which he has been hurriedly writing 
 while he is speaking. "This releases Lanty from the 
 guard tent, and makes him a sergeant! " 
 
 As Raymond, overwhelming him with thanks, is 
 about to leave, the Duke goes on: "When you left 
 Major Dillon, he thought himself ill-used ? " 
 
 "Very! "
 
 58 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "Well! The man who helped you give Friburg to 
 me must not think Hector de Villars ungrateful. Please 
 take my compliments to Colonel Dillon, and ask if he 
 will not, with yourself, do me the honor of dining with 
 me this evening. An Irish soldier of fortune always 
 enjoys a good dinner; foraging'is light and I hope mine 
 will be to his liking." 
 
 " I will carry the message to him, Monsieur le Due, 
 and make his heart as light as mine! " cries D'Arnac, 
 his dark eyes lighted by gratitude and love for his 
 chief. 
 
 "Very well! "responds De Villars, "let me see your 
 friend, the Irish Colonel, at seven ! Good-bye, as I must 
 make arrangements for the reduction of the forts on the 
 Schlossberg. " 
 
 "Ah!" answers Raymond, a happy idea striking 
 him, " Monsieur le Marechal as usual leads the assault in 
 his carriage ?" referring to an affair that had made De 
 Villars famous; when being wounded in a previous 
 campaign and unable to take horse, his Excellency had 
 led a charge propped up in his coach. 
 
 "No, by my faith!" chuckles the Duke, for even 
 Marechals of France like flattery when well put. " After 
 that last affair my coachman ran away, and I have too 
 expert a whip to risk my present one. Remember at 
 seven! " 
 
 As Raymond takes his leave he is congratulated 
 by several membe'rs of the Marechal's staff, Monsieur de 
 Sartimes, its chief, saying to him: " My young friend, 
 you will soon be as celebrated as your great uncle! ' for 
 the pet of the Commander is generally the favorite of his 
 etat major. 
 
 With a light heart Raymond hurries towards the tent 
 of his Irish friend, but suddenly seeing some ominous 
 movement at the office of the Provost Marshal, turns 
 rapidly to the dispenser of military justice bearing the 
 order for Lanty's release, and finds himself just in 
 time. 
 
 After the manner of that day, condemnation was 
 prompt for the common soldier, and punishment fol- 
 lowed very rapidly thereafter ; and he discovers them pre- 
 paring to make Mr. Lanty uncomfortable, by stringing 
 him up by the thumbs for the night, a mediasval military
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 59 
 
 punishment under the name of estrapade then in use in 
 the French army. 
 
 On hearing the news, Mr. Lanty, who has been look- 
 ing on with savage concern, cries to the guard about 
 him: " Take off my irons, and let me jump for joy! God 
 bless his Honor, the Marechal ! Now salute a sergeant, 
 ye murderous villains." 
 
 This being done by the grinning privates about him, 
 Lanty accompanies Raymond; but during their journey 
 to Dillon's tent he astounds the young Frenchman by 
 these gloomy words: " Byrne soul! I was born one hun- 
 dred years too soon ! That's the ruin of me. I know too 
 much for the present world." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asks D'Arnac. " Hasn't justice 
 been done you? " 
 
 " No, and it never will be. Instead of being a com- 
 mon soldier, one hundred years from now, if the world 
 goes on, I would have been honored as a great man; 
 but now my wisdom always gets me into trouble. Look 
 at the lights I made from a revolving wheel, that the 
 priests imprisoned me for. Look at me knowledge of 
 the old forms of gunnery, that rescued us from being 
 blown up in the Escargo Fort, and what has it brought 
 me to a narrow escape from running the gauntlet, and 
 a whole day lost from foraging. Sure an' the Major will 
 have nothing to eat to-night! " 
 
 "Sure an' he will!" laughs Raymond. "Colonel Dillon 
 dines with Marechal de Villars ! " 
 
 " Dines with the Commander in Chief? Tare-an-ages! 
 And is Sergeant Lanty invited to dine with his staff ?" 
 
 "No !" answers D'Arnac, "but the canteen furnish- 
 es very good meals, and with a louts d'or " 
 
 "I can keep fat for a week! " grins Lanty, holding 
 eager hand for the coin the young officer proffers. Then 
 he goes on more solemnly : ' But it will be a poor week's 
 living for the Colonel. Sure without the inspiration of 
 an empty stomach, I'll be little good at foraging." 
 
 By this time they are at the tent of O'Brien Dillon, 
 who, looking on the faces of D'Arnac and Lanty, cries: 
 " It's good news! " 
 
 "The best in tin- world !" answers Raymond. 
 "Colonel Dillon, Marechal le Due de Villars presents
 
 60 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 his compliments to you, and asks the honor of your 
 company at dinner. " 
 
 " Colonel, did ye say ? " cries O'Brien. Then he goes 
 on gloomily: "But without a regiment! Only twenty- 
 five of me poor fellows left ! " 
 
 " No, nine hundred !" 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " You command the Regiment of Alsace ! " 
 
 "Faith, then, I'll eat a good dinner with the Duke 
 this evening, and thank him for his command at the 
 same time!" returns Dillon, in a hearty voice; next 
 groans, "God save me! My only uniform was spoilt 
 in last night's fight, and my only wig pulled off my head 
 in the street skirmish." 
 
 "We're about the same height, accept one of mine," 
 suggests D'Arnac. 
 
 "'Deed and I will! My coat has lost one sleeve, my 
 right epaulette is naught, and I'm never above accepting 
 a favor from a friend like you've proved yourself to me 
 to-day!" cries O'Brien, with outstretched hand, and 
 tears of gratitude in his frank Irish face ; then he mutters 
 gloomily, "I've never been able to afford but one 
 uniform since my Uncle Johnny stripped me of my 
 plunder of the Low Countries." 
 
 So Raymond leaves him, but he does not forget his 
 promise, and an hour afterwards the two ride up to the 
 headquarters of the Mare"chal of France, O'Brien Dillon 
 remarking complacently: "I think my figure does 
 your uniform honor, Colonel d'Arnac!" 
 
 A minute later they are shown in, and the Duke, 
 putting them very much at their ease, and treating them 
 with distinguished consideration, they sit down to 
 table with De Villars, some of his staff, the Count du 
 Bourg, his Lieutenant-General, and a gentleman upon 
 whom Raymond would glare with indignation, did not 
 Dillon, who sits next to him, give warning pressure 
 with the foot. This gentleman is Du Bourg's chief of 
 staff, the Chevalier Gaston Lenoir, about whom several 
 pertinent words had passed in the afternoon between 
 the Irish Colonel and the young French officer. 
 
 "Don't let him take away your appetite," whispers 
 O'Brien. "He has not succeeded^/ in taking away
 
 A I'KINCFSS OF PARIS. 6 1 
 
 your breath. Smile on him, and don't let him think ye 
 suspect him, or he'll do you certain!" 
 
 Thus warned, Raymond contrives to keep a pleasant 
 face, and replies to the remarks of Lenoir, who is a 
 handsome man of about thirty; dark, of a Spanish 
 demeanor, punctilious address, and said to be the best 
 swordsman in the army of France. 
 
 Monsieur Lenoir is very polite to both the newly pro- 
 moted ones, and apologizes to Dillon for the mistake in the 
 report furnished him by his Adjutant that had caused 
 the Irishman's arrest. 
 
 " But I have rectified your error!" laughs De Villars, 
 from the head of the table, for the wine has been 
 circulating very freely, and they are all very happy. 
 
 "Bedad! you can arrest me to-morrow, Monsieur 
 Lenoir," answers O'Brien, " if the Marechal will make 
 me a general to correct your next error! " 
 
 This sets them all to laughing, Lenoir remarking, 
 perhaps with intention: " I hope to give Colonel Dillon 
 a chance to gain another step before the end of the 
 campaign! " 
 
 "Then you will have to do it soon," says the 
 Duke, who has got to talking very freely, "for our 
 attack upon the forts on Friburg mountain will probably 
 be the last of it. Eugene can't get any aid from the 
 States, and dare not give me battle with the troops he 
 now has. His Imperial Majesty of Austria will now 
 be very glad to stop fighting His Most Christian 
 Majesty of France, for the Turks are again becoming 
 troublesome, and he fears a second siege of Vienna! " 
 
 At this there is a little snarl of rage from the offi- 
 cers about the table: "The infidels besiege Vienna!" 
 
 Then man after man cries: 
 
 " I'll volunteer for the defense of Christendom! " 
 
 For though the French officers did not particularly 
 care for the Emperor of Austria or his fortunes, still all 
 Christendom had been trembling thirty years before at 
 the conquering march of the Turks up the Danube, and 
 had not got over their hatred and terror of them at this 
 time. 
 
 " licsides Colonel Dillon, I hope to iiivr another 
 chance to Monsieur d'Ai'iiar," murmurs Lrnoir in his 
 soft, purring voice.
 
 62 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " I have done that for him myself!" remarks De 
 Villars. 
 
 "How?" asks Raymond, eagerly. 
 
 "By appointing him on my staff as extra aide-de- 
 camp. His regiment consists of four men, which is 
 hardly enough to do honor to our young Colonel! " 
 
 As Raymond falters out his thanks, the Mare"chal leaves 
 the table, saying: "Business takes me away, but the 
 wine is still with you, gentlemen, and I hope you will 
 have a pleasant evening. " 
 
 Cards and dice being brought in, they all go to playing. 
 The stakes are not very high, though the Irish Colonel, 
 backed by D'Arnac, wins one hundred louis, and 
 feels himself rich again. 
 
 In the conversation over the card table Lenoir men- 
 tions his last visit to Paris, rather ostentatiously naming 
 a number of the beauties of the capital, its gayest sights 
 and brilliant life and terrific gaming at the Foire de 
 Saint Germain. 
 
 "You know Paris very well, Monsieur Lenoir," 
 remarks O'Brien. Then he says, suddenly: "Talking 
 of the gambling table, have you ever met a gentleman 
 named Lauriston, who is the greatest player of pharo 
 that I know? " 
 
 " No," replies Gaston, "the greatest gamester I ever 
 encountered or met is Monsieur Lass. I have seen him 
 risk one hundred thousand livres on a card, and win as 
 much as five hundred thousand in an evening at the 
 house of the charming Duclos. " 
 
 " Faith, then, he played a bigger game than my man. 
 My Uncle Johnny only won sixty thousand crowns from 
 me. But it was all I had ! " 
 
 And the party soon after breaking up, O'Brien Dillon 
 strolls off arm in arm with D'Arnac, laughing and chink- 
 ing the coin in his pocket, crying: "That's the best 
 dinner I've had since the one with my Uncle Johnny. 
 A colonel and a hundred louis to-night! This morning, 
 a major, and not an e"cus in my purse. Raymond, you've 
 brought me good luck ! " 
 
 The next day the Regiment d'Alsace is ordered into 
 the town as skirmishers and occupy the houses fronting 
 the works of the Austrians on the Schlossberg immedi- 
 ately opposite the almost impregnable Fort St. Peter.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 63 
 
 Meantime, Raymond, as extra aide-de-camp of the 
 Duke, has opportunity to go to the town in search of 
 the mother of the waif he rescued in the street fight. 
 To trace her he finds is impossible. Half the inhabit- 
 ants have fled, the little provisions in the place having 
 been promptly taken, with mediaeval military etiquette, 
 by the troops. Inquiries bring no news to him, stroll- 
 ing players are not apt to have permanent friends. 
 
 "Jeanne's mother was probably killed in some 
 one of the houses at all events I cannot find 
 her," the young man reasons to himself, as he makes 
 up his mind to take the little girl, on his return to 
 France, and place her under the direction of the ladies 
 of his own family if they will receive her. A pertinent 
 question in the year 1713, when grand dames of the 
 ancient noblesse looked upon those beneath them as 
 almost of a different race and the ladies of D'Arnac's 
 family carried in their veins some of the oldest and 
 proudest blood in France. 
 
 While making these researches Raymond has little 
 time to cultivate his Irish friend, for the Mare'chal keeps 
 his young aide-de-camp very busy, sending him on many 
 long rides to his entrenched camp that he has built to 
 defy the attack of the Austrian Prince; and many long 
 rides to the Rhine to hurry up reinforcements, forage 
 and commissary stores. 
 
 Yet chancing to see the little girl at the Carthu- 
 sian Convent the evening before the day the assault is 
 to be made on Fort St. Peter, she, with childlike frank- 
 ness, gives D'Arnac some curious information. 
 
 He comes hurriedly back from his visit to his charge, 
 goes into the headquarters of the Marechal, and getting 
 an opportunity asks the Chief of Staff if he knows the 
 dispositions made for the assault the next day. 
 
 " Yes," replies De Sartimes, " if the Baron de Arsch 
 does not beat the chamade by to-morrow morning at 
 eight o'clock De Villars has notified him the assault will 
 take place and no quarter be given! " 
 
 " You are sure it takes place to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Certainly! What can interfere ? D'Asfeld reports 
 the facines are ready to throw into the ditches, and the 
 temporary bridges and ladders for escalade are built. 
 Prince Eugene has given up all hope of raising the siege,
 
 64 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 and has retired to his lines at Etlingen. It will certainly 
 be to-morrow at eight." 
 
 "Then," returns Raymond eagerly, "would you 
 mind giving me the dispositions for the assault ? " 
 
 "As aide-de-camp you should know them," replies 
 De Sartimes. " It may assist your duties to-morrow. 
 The left of our line is the division of the Marquis de 
 Vivans. At the center is the brigade of De Nangis with 
 the regiments of Valenciennes and the Guard de 
 Boulogne. Du Bourg assaults the right. As usual your 
 Irish friend is in luck again. The Regiment of Alsace 
 leads the assault supported by De Pescux's Picardy Regi- 
 ment and Chambard's Bretons." 
 
 " That means," mutters Raymond, with compressed 
 lips, "that Dillon's command storms the bastion of St. 
 Peter?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " The one by the gate of Swabia ? " 
 
 "Certainly! Morbleu! but you are in a hurry, 
 Monsieur d'Arnac! " ejaculates De Sartimes. 
 
 For at these words Raymond has suddenly run out of 
 De Villars' headquarters, mounted his horse, and is 
 spurring with white lips along the road, up the valley of 
 St. Peters, straight for the Carthusian convent, for what 
 the child has prattled to him makes him know his Irish 
 comrade will have but one chance of life in to-morrow's 
 
 battle AND THAT CHANCE HE MUST GIVE HIM. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE MOUSE AND THE LION. 
 
 BUT HE arrives to find the convent's portals closed. 
 His watch, as near as he can discern by sparks from 
 flint and steel, shows eleven o'clock. He thunders on 
 the door with his fist. 
 
 No answer. 
 
 He assaults the heavy oaken barrier with the butt of 
 his pistol. 
 
 No reply. 
 
 " Unbar the gate, or I'll blow the lock off! " 
 
 No sound.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 65 
 
 "Open in the name of the King of France! "he 
 shouts. 
 
 Then the shrill voice of the old German lay sister 
 who keeps the gate is heard crying, " God save us! Is 
 the monastery to be sacked ? " 
 
 " No ; but open in the name of the King! " 
 
 At this a little wicket is slowly opened, and the pale- 
 faced lay sister whispers tremblingly: "You will not kill 
 us, neither will you defile the convent ? " 
 
 " No ; but I must see the lady superior." 
 
 "She cannot be disturbed. The convent is never 
 opened after eight o'clock." 
 
 "She must see me NOW! I come on the King's 
 business." 
 
 By this time there is a commotion inside, the lady 
 superior appearing at the head of her frightened nuns, 
 for even convents and the power of the Church did not 
 always prevent riot and outrage of the licentious soldiery 
 of the early eighteenth century. 
 
 Fortunately, the Abbess recognizes the young officer, 
 and says imperiously: "This is an unseemly inter- 
 ruption of our hour of prayer, Colonel d'Arnac. " 
 
 " Life and death hang on it." 
 
 " What do you wish ? " 
 
 "I wish the child I placed with you." 
 
 "To take her away at night is against the rules of 
 the convent." 
 
 " I must have her." 
 
 " No man enters these walls after nightfall." 
 
 " Within ten minutes she must ride on my saddle into 
 the town of Friburg, " answers Raymond, forcing his 
 way past one or two nuns who would bar his passage. 
 
 "Enter here and the curse of Rome will be upon 
 you," utters the Abbess with upraised crucifix. 
 
 "It's my soul for my friend's life and the lives of 
 three hundred men. I MUST! " moans Raymond. But 
 even as he says this, the young man, filled with the 
 superstition of his time, pauses and crosses himself ; for 
 D'Arnac had been brought up very carefully by pious 
 mother and pious priest in the beliefs of the Holy 
 Catholic Church. Then he says beseechingly : " 1 pr.iy 
 you, lady superior, do not make im- commit a mortal 
 sin. Though it is against the rules of the convent,
 
 66 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 don't force me to break into your sanctuary and carry 
 the child off, but her presence in the town of Friburg 
 to-night means the lives of a whole French regiment. 
 You have been protected here. No French soldier has 
 entered your walls to carry off your provisions, or the 
 treasures of the Church. Think! The lives of three 
 hundred men against one of your rules. " 
 
 The lady superior, looking at him, sees, in spite of 
 her monastic vows, he is a very handsome youth, and 
 returns: "You have been well brought up, I am happy 
 to learn. You beg you do not command. At your 
 prayer, I relax the rule, but will do penance for it. 
 Bring the child hither." 
 
 A few minutes after, little Jeanne, with a pale face, 
 stands beside Raymond and his panting horse. She 
 says, hurriedly: "Have you found my mother?" 
 
 " No! But you remember the story you told me of her?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " Come with me! You are not frightened ?" 
 
 " Not frightened with you /" laughs the child, as he 
 swings her onto the saddle in front of him, and holding 
 her in his arms gallops to the town of Friburg/ 
 
 Here, giving the word of the night and the countersign, 
 he is admitted at the gate of the Preaching Friars, the 
 one he and Dillon had captured, and riding as quickly as 
 possible through the mediaeval streets, crowded by 
 soldiery, past the old town hall built four centuries 
 before, to the houses immediately in front of the 
 bastion of St. Peter, he is halted by a sentry of the 
 Regiment of Alsace, and demands to be led to its 
 commander. 
 
 " Musha! How are ye, Colonel? The Dillon's been 
 longing for you for weeks, " cries the familiar voice of 
 Lanty. "I'll take you to him at the sign of The Golden 
 Calf!" 
 
 In this little hostelry, half in ruins from shot and shell, 
 D' Arnac discovers Dillon, chatting and playing cards 
 with two or three of the officers of his regiment. 
 
 " God bless you, my boy?" cries the Irishman, spring- 
 ing up from the table and seizing Raymond's out- 
 stretched hand. But there is something in Raymond's 
 face which makes Dillon say hurriedly: "You want to 
 see me? Something important?"
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 67 
 
 "Life and death! And in a devil of a hurry!" 
 
 "This way!" and the Colonel leads the young man into 
 a private apartment; the little girl following after them. 
 
 "We don't want you here, little Fraulein!" says 
 Dillon, shortly. " Give me a kiss and run away!" 
 
 "NEVER!" cries Jeanne, with' vicious stamp of little 
 foot. 
 
 "Oh, ho! Mademoiselle Vixen!" laughs O'Brien; 
 then he cries suddenly: " Parbleu ! it's your little 
 captive of the other night! " 
 
 " Yes come here to save your life! " 
 
 "Faith! and she looks like a good angel! " remarks 
 the Irish Colonel. As in truth she does, for la petite 
 Quinault, dressed in the uniform of the convent, which 
 is sufficiently religious to take from her piquant face its 
 earthly archness and alluring wue, some of her fair hair 
 floating out from under her coif, her blue eyes big with 
 excitement, her little hands trembling with nervous 
 tension, appears a saint. The disorder of a house 
 occupied by soldiers that are battling day by day, and 
 drinking night by night, their cries and curses even 
 now coming from the surrounding rooms, in contrast 
 with her slight girlish figure 'and innocent face, makes 
 her appear more ethereal than she is. 
 
 "Now," interjects D'Arnac, hurriedly, "tell him the 
 story! " 
 
 "The story of the subterranean passage into Fort St. 
 Peter?" says the girl. 
 
 "By Jove!" 
 
 "Yes! " 
 
 The first comes from O'Brien the second issues from 
 the lips of D'Arnac. 
 
 "Then," says the child, "I have told you, dear 
 Monsieur Raymond, my mother is very beautiful, and a 
 very great actress, and she has had, as is usual with all 
 grand artistes, admirers, for we gave three perform- 
 ances here in the town during the siege. One of these 
 gentlemen is Monsieur le liaron Reinhart, aide to 
 (irneral de Arsch, the Austrian Commander. He had 
 his quarters in Fort St. Peter. Sometimes he could not 
 get leave, and at his request, my mother (taking me 
 with her) would visit his quarters in the fort. At first 
 my mother had objected to this, saying that she would
 
 68 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 not pass tne gateway of the bastion in company with 
 Baron Reinhart; neither would she be willing to pass 
 the sentries, as it might cause gossip; for my mother is 
 a very prudent lady. 
 
 "Whereupon the Baron said: 'That can all be 
 avoided. There is a subterranean passage through 
 which you can pass unquestioned to the Fort St. 
 Peter!' Twice I went with her through it. It was long 
 and damp and gloomy, and filled with barrels so close 
 together we could hardly walk between them. And 
 Monsieur le Baron being with us, I said to him, ' What 
 are those ?' 
 
 " ' Those, my dear, are what you must be very care- 
 ful of!' he replied. 'They hold the gunpowder with 
 which we will blow up the French, if they ever try 
 to storm the fort.' 
 
 " 'But,' said my mother, who is a very wise woman, 
 ' are you not afraid your enemies might make their way 
 into the fort, through this very entrance?' 
 
 "'No! If we are compelled to evacuate Fri- 
 burg, we will close up the town entrance to this 
 passage, which is known only to me, a few of the 
 officers, and the Sergeant who is accompanying us now, 
 and who will escort you back on your return. ' Then 
 he went on very sternly, ' If you or your daughter ever 
 utter a word of this I will have you shot to death. ' ' 
 
 " Faith, an' ye 're not afraid of the Baron," mutters 
 Dillon, looking meditative. 
 
 "Of course not, with my guardian, Monsieur Ray- 
 mond, here! " says the little maiden, confidently, giving 
 D'Arnac a roguish glance and courtesy with the words. 
 
 "Do you know the house you entered the subter- 
 ranean passage from ? " asks Dillon, springing up. 
 
 "Yes; the third from the Inn of the Golden Calf." 
 .."'The Golden Calf!' That's where we are now!" 
 cries Raymond. 
 
 "We entered from the cellar of the house." 
 
 "Quick! show us! " 
 
 And the three run down the stairs into the streets, 
 and forcing their way between some loitering soldiers, 
 march straight for the house which the little girl 
 indicates. It is unoccupied, its inhabitants having fled 
 with most other civilians, from the storms of war.
 
 A I'RINCF.SS OF PARIS. 69 
 
 A moment after, Dillon, going back to the Inn, 
 returns with a flambeau, and they enter the house- 
 Pulling up a trap door, they find a little stairway, which 
 has apparently been made in a hurry, and which is 
 unusual, as a ladder was commonly used in those days. 
 
 11 Now," says O'Brien, looking around the walls, 
 " where? " 
 
 "There!" cries the little girl, and points to a heap 
 of rubbish on the side of the apartment nearest Fort 
 St. Peter. 
 
 " I'll bring three sappers and miners at once! " cries 
 Dillon. 
 
 "A dozen! The assault takes place to-morrow 
 morning at eight! " whispers D'Arnac. 
 
 "Only seven hours that is little time! God bless 
 the child all the same! How innocently she told her 
 story, and never guessed she was letting us know her 
 mother was a very naughty girl. Faith I'll bring two 
 dozen this must be a quick job! " 
 
 As the two have been whispering, they have sprung 
 up the stairway, carrying Jeanne with them, and 
 Raymond going to the Inn, gives instruction to the 
 host and his wife who are risking German bullets for 
 hope of profit to take very good care of the child for 
 the night. 
 
 Then he and Dillon and relays of men, lighted by 
 the sickly flicker of flambeaux, attack the debris and the 
 stones and boulders and portions of the ruined masonry 
 that have been thrown in by the Austrians to close up 
 and conceal any trace of the passage into the Fort 
 St. Peter. 
 
 "It doesn't even sound hollow!" mutters Lanty, 
 who has come down to help them. They have worked 
 for two or three hours, and O'Brien mutters: " Do you 
 think little Jeanne has been fooling you, as the lady I 
 captured fooled me? " 
 
 "No," answers D'Arnac, "I believe her so well that 
 I think our lives depend upon our finding this passage 
 before the signal for assault is given ! " 
 
 " Our lives! " 
 
 " Yes! I go by your side! " 
 
 "Absurd!" 
 
 "I have already volunteered!"
 
 70 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " You foolish boy ! " whispers Dillon, leading D'Arnac 
 to a corner of the cellar, where their voices are drowned 
 by the blows of the sappers and miners that are working 
 incessantly. " Don't you see that you are giving our 
 friend, Lenoir, two birds to kill with one stone? Don't 
 you know that the Regiment of Alsace are now getting 
 the posts of danger and certain death? Didn't I have 
 nine hundred brave men with me when we manned these 
 houses, and after fusilade, assault, and counter-sortie, 
 haven't I only three hundred of them left! Faith! I 
 shouldn't wonder if Du Bourg's Chief of Staff knew of 
 this very mine that is to blow us all up! " 
 
 "Then, we must work the harder to disappoint 
 him! " answers Raymond. 
 
 They urge on the men, relays are brought, and all 
 work like demons for Dillon has told them their 
 lives depend on finding this passageway, before the 
 assault is ordered. That when the bugles so 1 ; nd "The 
 Charge!" this passageway, filled with gunpowder, is 
 what they'll have to run over before they reach the 
 glacis of the Fort St. Peter. 
 
 Stones are dragged away, and the men work stronger 
 than slaves under the lash stronger than money could 
 make them stronger than anything but the fear of 
 death. 
 
 So they toil on, and it is now six o'clock, and Lanty, 
 sounding, says: "Faix! I think I hear a hollow ring 
 through the stone work and the rubbish now. " 
 
 Encouraged by this, a new relay is brought in, and 
 fresh men attack the stone work, and then they come to 
 some impenetrable obstacle, and D'Arnac cries: " Good 
 heavens ! they have made a solid wall of masonry from 
 the inside!" 
 
 "Murder! One we dare not blow down on 
 account of the powder beyond us! The mortar's been 
 setting for the last two weeks, and is now as hard as 
 flint!" groans Lanty. 
 
 But they attack this with drills and crowbars and 
 struggle on, while overhead the firing of musketry and 
 boom of musketoons tell of coming daylight and begin- 
 ning battle. 
 
 It is now seven o'clock!
 
 A PRINCESS Ol- PARIS. 7 1 
 
 i 
 
 Lanty gives a howl of joy. His drill pierces the wall 
 and finds open space beyond. 
 
 Working like men whose only chance is speed, the 
 miners chisel and pry out the solid masonry. " Faix ! 
 This gate of St. Peter's is as difficult to get through as 
 if it was the real gate of Heaven!" mutters Lanty. 
 
 Half -past seven ! 
 
 The bugles and drums are sounding the assembly. 
 
 " Malediction ! We'll not have time ! " mutters Dillon. 
 
 " I'll fly down to Du Bourg and ask him for half an 
 hour's delay! " cries D'Arnac, and hurries away. 
 
 But in the narrow mediaeval streets now crowded with 
 soldiers marching to the ramparts, he cannot find his 
 General of Division. 
 
 Good Lord! he is too late! for even now De 
 Vivan's drums. from the left are sounding the charge. 
 
 Then Raymond suddenly gasps: "The child! The 
 explosion will kill her! " and flies back into the inn to 
 find the "Golden Calf" is deserted. All have now 
 fled from it, save a few soldiers, who are now acting as 
 sharpshooters from its roof. 
 
 D'Arnac speeds back to die with his Irish friend if he 
 cannot save him. 
 
 Springing into the cellar he finds the miners still 
 working like beavers, but a girl's voice horrifies him. 
 
 Little Jeanne is standing by the Irish Colonel and 
 eagerly saying: "I could show you the way, if you 
 could crawl through like me. Why are you so big and 
 broad-shouldered? " 
 
 "Quick! Jeanne! Away!" commands Raymond, 
 hoarsely. 
 
 " I I only came here to see if you had found the 
 passage. Don't be angry, dear Monsieur Raymond!" 
 pleads the little girl. 
 
 " Yes, take her away! " mutters Dillon. " For God's 
 sake leave us! The long roll is beating and I must 
 charge with my men ! " 
 
 Just here there is a cry from Lanty: " Faix! I have 
 got another beastly stone out! " 
 
 " If you could get through, I could show you where 
 the trench is dug! " persists the child. "It is marked 
 with small flags." 
 
 "What trench?"
 
 72 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "The one the Sergeant said would light the gun- 
 powder! " explains Jeanne. Then she suddenly cries: 
 "Oh, goodness gracious! you have done it!" 
 
 For at this moment D'Arnac, with the agility of 
 twenty, has forced his way through the hole, which is 
 just large enough to permit his lithe, scarce fully 
 developed body to squeeze through. In fact he leaves 
 half his uniform behind him. 
 
 "Holy St. Pathrick! The fool's goin' to fight the 
 Austrians alone! " screams Lanty, for none of the men 
 can follow the young officer, though some have tried. 
 
 "Give me a hatchet! " answers D'Arnac. 
 
 "Powers of Heaven! what are ye goin' to do?" 
 whispers Dillon, seizing Raymond's arm that is now 
 thrust back in the cellar, groping for some sharp 
 weapon. 
 
 " I am going to cut the port-fire so they can't explode 
 the mine. Let go my hand! " returns D'Arnac. 
 
 " Not without me? " 
 
 "You can't get through! Colonel Dillon, your place 
 is at the head of your men. Hold them back as long 
 as you can with honor then CHARGE! If I cut the port- 
 fire, you're saved from the mine ! If not, we go together / " 
 
 "Together!" whispers Dillon, wringing his friend's 
 hand. 
 
 " Together!" 
 
 To this the Irishman cries: "Go in God's 
 name!" and places a sharp tomahawk in Raymond's 
 groping fingers. 
 
 Then D'Arnac disappears in the gloom of the 
 passageway. 
 
 "Come, child, quick, run back into the town!" 
 shouts O'Brien, hurrying from the cellar, for his orderly 
 has just cried to him his regiment is mustered and 
 waiting. But on getting to his place in front of his 
 command, Dillon sees no child has left the house. 
 
 Then the drums roll out the/aj de charge! 
 
 Forward he must go, over the place of death he and 
 his three hundred ! 
 
 But oh ! what is going on below among the gunpow- 
 der? 
 
 In intense gloom, Raymond crawls along.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 73 
 
 He dare not walk. A stumble that would disable him 
 would destroy him. 
 
 It is pitch dark. 
 
 He holds out groping hands. They encounter wood- 
 en staves and iron hoops Hie kegs of gunpowder ! 
 
 He is among them they surround him. Have they 
 been moved? Is all passage through them barred to 
 the port fire that may even now be burning to destroy 
 him? Must he stay here till the awful roar and 
 NOTHINGNESS! 
 
 As he stumbles about he feels a clutch upon his arm. 
 
 "God bless you, Lanty! " he whispers, for he knows 
 the Irish dare-devil has a gaunt frame and may have 
 squeezed through. 
 
 " No, it's I! " whispers a girlish voice. 
 
 "Jeanne? Back for the Virgin's sake! " groans 
 D'Arnac. 
 
 "No! I can show you how to get forward. You've 
 turned wrong. Follow me! " 
 
 No time to argue only to act! He gropes after her. 
 
 " Quick! take my dress in your hand. This way! I 
 can show you how to go when in the Austrian fort! " 
 
 In the Austrian fort? Will they get there, or will the 
 gigantic roar and death reach them first ? 
 
 They are groping on ! His grasp meets only barrels 
 and barrels gunpowder everywhere! How slow they 
 move, creeping on hands and knees. At this pace they 
 are lost! 
 
 "Quicker!" he gasps. "Jeanne, quicker!" 
 
 " I can't! The barrels stop me! " 
 
 " Mordieu! you've lost the path!" 
 
 "No! I've found the turn! " 
 
 "Thank Heaven! " 
 
 " Now we can walk the walls are higher we can 
 run! " 
 
 "Thank God! " whispers D'Arnac, and speeds after 
 her; slime u'nder foot, a faint glimmer in front, and 
 sudden death all about them. 
 
 Will these barrels never, never end ? 
 
 At last a vaulted way, subdued lijrht and THE LAS1 
 BARREL! 
 
 " Quick! the trench of the port-fire! " he gasps. 
 
 "There! See the little flags! "
 
 74 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "My God! the smell of burning fuse!" he groans. 
 "Fiends of Hell! The slow match is lighted and 
 burning towards the powder! " 
 
 He runs back to the last barrel and feels in semi- 
 darkness for the port-fire ! 
 
 He has it where it enters the bung hole! Then 
 his axe flashes and he cuts the fuse just in time! ONE 
 INCH AND ONE SECOND AHEAD OF THE SPARK OF 
 DEATH! 
 
 Then a great, strong breath of relief! He pulls the 
 disconnected fuse away, and tossing it on one side, 
 stands dazed, trembling, almost unnerved death has 
 looked him so straight in the face. 
 
 A second after a little hand is laid upon his arm, and 
 a voice that has grown dear to him whispers: "The 
 coming steps." 
 
 The Austrians! Come back to see why the mine 
 has failed! They'll overpower him, and his risk has 
 been for naught. 
 
 "Quiet!" he whispers to the little girl as he peers 
 out of the darkness. 
 
 Two men are coming a sergeant and a corporal. 
 Brave men they must be, to volunteer to enter a mine 
 already fired. 
 
 They are looking for danger, but not such as meets 
 them. 
 
 He is the unexpected ! 
 
 As they bend down over the severed fuse, with his 
 .tomahawk he brains them both! Without a cry, almost 
 without a shudder, they fall and die. 
 
 "Assassin! " shrieks little Jeanne, and, wringing her 
 hands, she flies from D'Arnac. 
 
 Raymond must overtake her. If she alarms the fort 
 before it is gained by his friends, he is lost. He follows 
 her and catches her just as she enters the main vaults 
 of the bastion. But the soldiers are all on the ramparts, 
 away from the expected explosion. D'Arnac hears 
 distant cheering though there is no firing. 
 
 "Don't be frightened, little one," he says, holding 
 her hands. 
 
 "Let me go, murderer! " mutters the girl, shudder- 
 ing from him. 
 
 " It was not murder."
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 75 
 
 " Not murder?" The blue eyes open wide at him. 
 
 " It was war! " 
 
 "War? Then never let me see more of it! " And 
 the child would shrink from him again, but he retains 
 her, speaks soothingly to her, telling her that she holds 
 his life in her hands. If the Austrians discover him 
 he will be killed. That he had to do it to save the lives 
 of all those brave men she saw working all the night. 
 That he has always been kind to her. 
 
 And she murmurs: "Always kind tome/ But, oh ! 
 how cruel to others,!" 
 
 Even as D'Arnac whispers, he knows danger has 
 passed from him. The Austrian drums are beating the 
 chamade on the ramparts above him a token of 
 surrender, for their mine has failed them. 
 
 Another second, and he hears the wild cheer of 
 Dillon's regiment climbing over the ramparts. 
 
 Then he rushes up the stairs from the vaults to the 
 battery, and before his eyes are reconciled to the bright 
 light of the sun, he is in the arms of his Irish comrade, 
 who is embracing him, and crying over him: "Thank 
 God! You got through in time! You stopped those 
 beggars blowing us up to Heaven or Hell! " 
 
 And Lanty, forgetting discipline, is thumping him on 
 the back and yelling: "Musha! 'twas hard work 
 walking over the gunpowder! What must it have been 
 to crawl through it? God bless ye for saving our 
 lives! " 
 
 But D'Arnac simply says: "It was not I who 
 stopped the Austrians firing the mine! " 
 
 " Faith was it bad powder?" asks O'Brien. 
 
 " No! only the little girl! She saved us all! " 
 
 So D'Arnac telling them the story, the soldiers 
 crowd round the little maiden, and thank her, and 
 O'Brien Dillon walking up, says: "My little lady, 
 you've preserved the lives of three hundred brave men 
 to-day! As Colonel of the Regiment of Alsace, I shall 
 ask permission from the Marechal to carry your name on 
 our banner!" With this he makes her the profound 
 bow of ceremony, but does not offer to kiss 'Miss 
 Distant,' as he did the night before. 
 
 Perhaps there is something in her eye that still says.: 
 "NEVER!"
 
 76 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 A moment after, he incidentally remarks to Raymond: 
 " By the powers! It wks the old story of the mouse and 
 the lion, over again ! " 
 
 This the little girl, who chances to be near them, 
 overhearing, she laughs in the Irish Colonel's good- 
 humored face: "But you were not my lion! Pooh! 
 Do you suppose I risked my life to save yours?" 
 
 " Faith I seldom compliment myself when ladies are 
 concerned !" replies O'Brien. "Whom did you do it for? " 
 
 " It was to save his life! " 
 
 "His! Whose?" 
 
 "The hero of the play, of course, Colonel Raymond 
 d'Arnac, my guardian! " And she walks to this young 
 gentleman, who is conversing with some of the Austrian 
 officers (for both sides in this war of enmity between 
 two kings generally treated each other very much 
 as comrades, when truce or parley permitted), and 
 courtesying humbly to the astonished Raymond, she 
 kisses his hand and makes obeisance to him, saying: 
 " Mon Seigneur!" 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LOOK FOR ALL THINGS IN PARIS. 
 
 As THIS happens, Dillon and D'Arnac receive orders 
 to make their reports in person to De Villars. 
 
 At the very gate of the bastion they are halted by an 
 orderly, and asked to step into a house that is occupied as 
 the temporary headquarters of the Marechal of France. 
 Here they find De Villars and De Arsch, the Austrian 
 commander, who are settling the terms of surrender. 
 
 "What new adventure is this, I hear?" cries the 
 Marechal. "Have you both gained another step? I 
 see you've got the bastion." 
 
 "You needn't thank me for this one, Monsieur le 
 Due!" answers Dillon. " Thank your own countryman 
 the Frenchman." 
 
 But D'Arnac laughs: "If there is any promotion 
 give it to this young lady !" And introducing Jeanne 
 to his chief, Raymond says: " Tell him your story, 
 petite ! "
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 77 
 
 At which the little girl becomes a comedienne and tells 
 her tale to De Villars and his staff, and to the Austrian 
 Commander, who looks very gloomily on, as he learns 
 how his fort was lost through the amours of one of his 
 officers. 
 
 This little Jeanne does, with all the airs of her 
 profession, imitating Dillon, until he blows his nose to 
 conceal his confusion, and taking off the brogue of Mr. 
 Lanty, in a wild kind of Irish-French, that makes the 
 tears roll down the bronzed and wrinkled cheeks of the 
 old Marechal of France. 
 
 As she concludes, he takes her in his arms and kisses 
 her, though she cries "NEVER!*" But a marechal of 
 France is not put off so easily as an Irish colonel, and 
 he says: " Petite! were I King of France, I would 
 make you a countess but as I am only a gruff old 
 soldier, all I can say is, call on Le Due de Villars when 
 you want a friend! " 
 
 Then he turns to De Arsch, the Austrian Commander, 
 saying: " The terms of the surrender, as I understand 
 it, agreed upon by us, Baron, are, that you march the 
 garrison out with the honors of war, and join Prince 
 Eugene at Etlingen, leaving all stores, ammunitions, 
 and the batteries uninjured, to be occupied by the 
 army under my command. Is that the understanding! " 
 
 "Yes, Marechal," replies De Arsch, who has been 
 chewing a grizzled moustache very savagely as he has 
 listened to the little girl's recital, "with one condi- 
 tion." 
 
 " Humph ! no condition ! " 
 
 " One! Listen to me. I demand ten minutes before 
 I surrender! " 
 
 " \Vhy?" 
 
 " Five minutes to assemble a drum-head court 
 martial and try Reinhart for neglect of duty! Five 
 minutes more to shoot him to death with a file of mus- 
 keteers. " 
 
 "And if not granted?" says De Villars. 
 
 " Then I will fight you until I have time to execute 
 the traitor." 
 
 "Under these circumstances, the ten minutes are 
 allowed! " remarks the French Marechal, and De Arsch 
 pushes his way through the crowd, muttering
 
 78 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 between his clinched teeth: " Though he is my cousin, 
 I'll teach him to betray the secrets of my fortifications 
 to aid his assignations with an actress! " 
 
 Ten minutes after there is a sound of plontoon firing 
 on the glacis of Fort St. Peter. Then the flag of Austria 
 'is lowered. A moment after the German bugles 
 sound and the fifes play the quick march, as the infan- 
 try of the House of Hapsburg march out with drums 
 beating and colors flying with the honors of war, and 
 defile through the streets of Friburg, to take route for 
 the camp of Eugene of Savoy. 
 
 The next day the Marechal sends for the two com- 
 rades. "Three months ago," he remarks to them, 
 "the exploit of yesterday would have given you both a 
 step; you would have become generals. As it is, I 
 fear now the war is closed, promotion will be slow, and 
 the army will be cut down. You probably will not 
 receive your rank immediately, though I shall send my 
 recommendation to the King to that effect. As it is, 
 all I can offer you as certainty is an empty honor 
 that of attending me, as members of my suite, to 
 Rastadt, where I am going to meet Prince Eugene, to 
 arrange the terms of peace between his Most Christian 
 Majesty of France and his Most Imperial Majesty of 
 Austria." 
 
 A mark of such favor from the Marechal in Chief is 
 equivalent to command and is immediately accepted by 
 the two young men, for Dillon himself is only twenty- 
 eight as he stands a Colonel of France before De Villars. 
 
 The day after, relays being furnished by the French 
 Government, De Villars, attended by a magnificent staff, 
 journeys up the Rhine past Strassburg, and in three days 
 finds himself at Rastadt, little Jeanne accompanying 
 the cavalcade in a coach furnished her by subscription 
 of the officers of the Regiment of Alsace, who are 
 inclined to make her their goddess, for the child's 
 piquant beauty and theatric airs have won the hearts of 
 those she has saved from death in the assault. 
 
 Several times, De Villars himself, at the towns they 
 stop at over night, has her at his dinner table, gives her 
 bonbons, and makes much of her, in his courtly, yetgrave 
 way, and one evening says: "We must find a husband 
 for you, my little princess! "
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 79 
 
 In truth, that is what she looks, for Jeanne is dressed 
 now after the granite monde, Raymond having squandered 
 almost his last /out's (Tor, as her guardian, to give her a 
 proper outfit of linen, silks, satins and laces, and a maid 
 to attend on her, for he is very proud of his protege 
 his ward as he calls her and very grateful to her, for he 
 knows he owes his life to her. 
 
 To this speech the little lady bows with graceful cere- 
 mony, and surprises the Mar^chal by replying gravely: 
 "On that you must ask my guardian, my Seigneur, 
 Colonel le Comte d'Arnac I have made oath of fealty 
 to him, and he has the disposal of his vassal." 
 
 " Mon Dieu!" answers the Duke, " You talk as if it 
 were two hundred years ago, in the Feudal ages." 
 
 "Yes; I got that speech out of a masque played 
 before Louis the Ninth," returns Mademoiselle, courte- 
 sying again. 
 
 At which De Villars bursts into a laugh; but Jeanne 
 having gone away, he suddenly orders: "Send Colonel 
 d'Arnac here at once ! " 
 
 Then the two being alone together the Marechal looks 
 sternly at his colonel and says: " D'Arnac, what are you 
 going to do with this pretty captive of your bow and 
 spear ? " 
 
 "You mean little Jeanne ?" 
 
 "Yes! Answer me as man to man." 
 
 " Then, as man to man, I am going to take Mademoi- 
 selle Quinault to the ladies of my family in France. If 
 they will accept her care she shall stay with them. If 
 not, she shall be educated in a good convent." 
 
 " And afterwards ? " 
 
 "Afterwards! I shall provide for her future as if she 
 were a daughter of the House d'Arnac." Then, seeing 
 the cloud on his chief's face, Raymond bursts out: "My 
 God! What do you think of me that you ask such 
 questions? Don't I know she saved my life as well as 
 that of Dillon and all his regiment ? " 
 
 " I think of you," answers De Villars, his face grow- 
 ing genial and his voice hearty, "as a very young and 
 very honorable gentleman. I am delighted, Raymond, 
 the camp has not destroyed your good heart as it does 
 so many of my officers. This little lady ha^ given 
 herself into your keeping; see that you use wisdom as
 
 80 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 well as honor in her direction ; for, by my troth ! a few 
 years from now she'll be more difficult to manage than 
 an army. But if trouble conies to you call on De Villars. 
 He has beaten Eugene of Savoy, and '11 help you manage 
 this young woman, and also assist you as to her ' dot.' 
 There will be many suitors for her bright eyes. Some 
 day she will think of marriage. Now good-night, my 
 dear boy. I'm very much pleased with you." And the 
 Marechal of France gives his young colonel a mighty 
 squeeze. 
 
 Coming out from this interview, Raymond thinks: 
 ' ' No wonder he wins his battles ! Who wouldn't die for 
 De Villars ? " 
 
 The next morning they journey on, and one fine winter 
 day toward the last of the year 1713, with sounding 
 salute of cannon, De Villars and his party ride in and 
 take quarters in the palace of Rastadt. 
 
 Here he is shortly joined by his old but honored 
 adversary, the Prince Eugene of Savoy, who comes, 
 attended by a brilliant suite, from his lines at Etlingen. 
 And for sixty odd days these two semi-mediaeval 
 warriors alternately entertain each other at dinner each 
 night, and talk politics and terms. of armistice and 
 surrender of fortresses, and replacement of national 
 lines during the daytime, though even in sixty days 
 they do not agree as to conditions, and the terms they 
 have partially drawn up are referred to their respective 
 courts. 
 
 But within two weeks afterwards, on the 6th day of 
 March, 1714, are ratified by the Treaty of Rastadt. 
 
 During this time Raymond, finding safe convoy for 
 Mademoiselle Quinault, dispatches that young lady with 
 a long letter of introduction to the care of his aunt, 
 the Countess de Crevecoeur, in Paris. He feels 
 relieved to get rid of the immediate charge of her, 
 especially as the beauty of his protege has caused 
 remarks that are, some of them, not altogether equiv- 
 ocal as to his generosity in regard to the little lady's 
 clothes and equipage. 
 
 So la petite bids him good-bye, though her blue eyes 
 are very teary as she says, playfully, but pathetically: 
 "Adieu, Monsieur Hero of the play, till the hammer 
 raps for the second act."
 
 A PRINCESS OK PARIS. 8 1 
 
 As she is driven away, D'Arnac reasons that little 
 Jeanne is much better off in the care of the ladies of 
 his family than in this town of Rastadt, with its crowds 
 of gay officers dicing and gaming; for many of both the 
 Austrian and French armies have congregated there, 
 and fetes and dinner parties are taking place by day and 
 by night. 
 
 At one of the last of these, given by the Austrian 
 General in Chief in celebration of the signing of the 
 articles of peace, that have this day been ratified by 
 both governments, it chances that both he and O'Brien 
 Dillon are present. Prince Eugene, having heard of 
 their very distinguished conduct at Friburg, both by 
 general report and the very flattering words of Marechal 
 de Villars, spoken to him privately, is inclined to make 
 much of them, and these young gentlemen find them- 
 selves much higher up the board than officers of their 
 rank or their age might expect. 
 
 This dinner, drawing towards its close, and the wine 
 being passed very freely (a^ it always did among the 
 military of those days, when they could get any), they 
 are all in a laughing and happy humor, and the formal 
 toasts to the rulers of both countries being drunk, 
 and the conversation growing informal, De Villars, who 
 sits at the right of his host, in post of honor, and has 
 been chatting and laughing with him, for these two old 
 antagonists have always respected each other's fighting 
 qualities, and their sixty days' diplomatic intercourse 
 has made them great friends, says laughingly: "I 
 presume your next campaign, your Highness, will be 
 on the banks of the Danube, and not against Christians, 
 but against the Infidel. May it be as fortunate as that 
 of your last defense of Christendom! " 
 
 Then rising, he calls out in his hearty voice: 
 "Gentlemen, fill your glasses! I drink to the hero of 
 Zenta!" referring to that battle in which Prince 
 Eugene had given the Ottomans their most terrible 
 thrashing since the siege of Vienna. 
 
 At tliis there is great cry ami wild applause for the 
 hero of Xenta. 
 
 Returning thanks for this compliment, I'riiuv 
 Eugene of Savoy, warming to his subject, depict- 
 the awful horrors of Mohammedan invasion, when
 
 82 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 the ladies of Austria and Hungary were carried 
 off to the harems of Constantinople, the captives of 
 higher rank held for exorbitant ransom, the captives 
 of lower rank sold for slaves, and the country made a 
 waste of destroyed castles, violated homes and burning 
 villages. Then he goes on: "But with such armies as 
 that of yours, Monsieur le Due de Villars, and that of 
 my own, Christendom no longer fears the Ottoman. 
 For I know both of them would use bayonet and sword, 
 and musket against the legions of Allah, even more 
 stoutly than they did against each other! " 
 
 This being received with great clinking of glasses and 
 shouts of applause, his Highness of Savoy, who is an 
 excellent recruiting officer, cries out: "What French- 
 man will volunteer to go with me and fight the 
 Turk?" 
 
 At this, O'Brien Dillon, filled with wine and enthu- 
 siasm, springs on the table and, drawing his blade and 
 waving it on high, cries: "Here's an Irish sword for 
 you as well as a French one! " 
 
 In a second, Count d'Estrades and half the French 
 officers in the room are on the tables beside him, flash- 
 ing their sabres and crying: " Death to the Ottoman ! " 
 
 " Marble it!" laughs De Villars himself, carried away 
 by the enthusiasm, "we'll all go with you, Prince, if we 
 can get the permission of our master, his Most Christian 
 Majesty of France." 
 
 " On that subject I would talk to you," says Eugene, 
 and, after a little, the two leave the dinner party 
 together, which shortly after breaks up, with no more 
 result than that a number of French officers, obtaining 
 permission from the French Government, do in the 
 course of the next few months, volunteer to assist the 
 Emperor of Austria against the enemy of the Church of 
 Christ. 
 
 In O Brien Dillon's case it takes more immediate and 
 pointed result. 
 
 The next afternoon D'Arnac sees Mr. Lanty hurriedly 
 packing up his master's impedimenta, for O'Brien and 
 he occupy the same quarters. 
 
 "You're in a hurry to go to Paris to find Madame 
 O'Brien Dillon, eh? " laughs D'Arnac, noting the excite- 
 ment of the Irishman.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 83 
 
 " To go to Paris ? Musha ! we're bound for Constan- 
 tinople!" cries Lanty. "They say the plunder is 
 something beautiful in that country." 
 
 "You don't mean it ?" ejaculates Raymond, excit- 
 edly. 
 
 " Shure as I'm a Catholic! " answers Lanty. 
 
 This information is confirmed by O'Brien, who comes 
 hurriedly in, saying: "Faith, my boy, good-bye is the 
 word! I'm going to Vienna! " 
 
 "Impossible! You're an officer in the French 
 service." 
 
 "Yesterday I was. To-day I'm an officer in the 
 Austrian!" Then the Irishman continues, hurriedly: 
 "This morning Mare"chal De Villars, God bless him! 
 sent for me, and spoke the kindest words I have 
 ever heard in my life. It was something to this effect: 
 That his Highness, the Prince Eugene of Savoy, had 
 asked for me especially, upon hearing the Duke's 
 report of my conduct at Friburg, and had offered me a 
 colonelcy in the Austrian army a crack regiment of 
 dragoons at that! At first I hesitated, said I hoped to 
 go to Paris, as I had a little affair to settle with me 
 Uncle Johnny. 
 
 " ' Never mind your uncle,' said he. ' Let me tell 
 you entre nous. You won't have any money to go 
 to Paris. Don't you know the army is in arrears for 
 over twelve months ? ' 
 
 " ' Faith, my pocket knows that too well! ' said I. 
 
 " ' Do you think there will be any money now to pay 
 the army ? Don't you know the country is entirely 
 bankrupted by this war ? ' said De Villars to me confi- 
 dentially. ' Besides that, the number of our regiments 
 will certainly be cut down. Even with my interest, I 
 doubt whether I can retain you in the service. There 
 will be too many of high family and courtly influence 
 running around after my master, the King, for even 
 De Villars, his old servant, to be able to save all the 
 officers he wants. Now, if you leave the French service 
 with my permission, I can get you immediately your 
 arrears of pay. I will take that upon myself! You, 
 as I understand it, depend entirely on active service 
 for your success in life. Think of the spoils of an 
 Ottoman camp.'
 
 4 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " His talk of 'spoils ' made me remember my plunder 
 of the Low Countries and I became as anxious as a 
 terrier dog smelling rats. 
 
 "' Do you think there will be much plunder, Monsieur 
 le Marechal ? ' said I. 
 
 "'Faith!' laughed he, 'you'll never know what 
 plunder is until you get there.' 
 
 "With that I give him my word, and my papers are 
 even now being made out. 
 
 "Then he went on, crying: 'Colonel, if there was 
 any employment for you in the army of France, do you 
 suppose I'd give you up to any other general on earth ?' 
 And complimented me and made me feel a hero; and 
 then said : ' Good-bye ! God bless you ! And don't 
 come back unless you're a general!' 
 
 " ' Faith! you might as well make it a field marshal! ' 
 I remarked. 
 
 "'Faith! and you may !' he replied, laughing, 'and 
 with a handle to your name besides. Look at Count 
 Browne. The Austrians are very partial to your 
 countrynren, and the Emperor throws his titles at the 
 feet of good generals. Besides, the Vienna ladies are 
 very rich and very beautiful ! ' 
 
 "At which I came away very thoughtful, for the 
 Marechal's little joke had put Madame O'Brien Dillon 
 in me head, and by me soul! if I had enough crowns in 
 my pocket to take me to her in Paris, and to give her 
 the establishment of a gentlewoman, as my rank and 
 her beauty entitles her to, all the Turks in the 
 world would not drag me from seeing Paris. As it 
 is, Raymond, I want you to do me a favor when you get 
 there." 
 
 "Anything! " replies D'Arnac. 
 
 "Well, this is simple. Find Madame O'Brien Dillon. 
 She's somewhere in high society, you can be sure of 
 that. Find her and give her this letter that I have 
 written. Will ye do it?" 
 
 " As I am your friend! " 
 
 "Then it is settled," answers the Colonel delivering 
 the epistle. "Now, please don't talk to me of her 
 again, because when I think of her, I grow desperate!" 
 and O'Brien goes off with tears in his eyes to see that 
 his horses will be ready for him within the hour.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 85 
 
 After he has gone, D'Arnac, meditating upon his 
 errand, concludes the finding of his friend's wife will be 
 a difficult matter, as she doubtless does not bear O'Brien 
 Dillon's name. For further information consequently 
 he applies to Lanty, who is busy about his master's bag- 
 gage in the next room, and is easy of access. 
 
 "You heard," Raymond says, "my promise to 
 deliver a letter to Madame O'Brien Dillon?" 
 
 " Faix and I did! I was wondering to myself how 
 you'd find her! " laughs Lanty. 
 
 "That's why I ask your assistance. Give a descrip- 
 tion of her! " 
 
 "Musha! I can do better than that," says Lanty 
 with a grin. " I'll give you her likeness." 
 
 " Her what ? " gasps Raymond, astonished. 
 
 " Her miniature ! It's with diamonds all 'round it on 
 ivory! When the Colonel and I stole her baggage that 
 night, we were conveying Miss Hilda'Van Hoist from 
 Namur. For my portion of the plunder I secured this!" 
 and Lanty, producing from his haversack a little tin 
 case covered with velvet, opens it, and placing it in the 
 astonished D'Arnac's hand, says proudly: "What do 
 you think of Madam O'Brien Dillon ? " 
 
 " A-a-ah ! " This is a gasp of astonished wonder and 
 delight from the young Frenchman. He had thought 
 Dillon's rhapsody on his captive bride the raving of a 
 wild Irishman's romance, but the face before him defies 
 description, for the first moment he looks at it, all it 
 means to Raymond is beauty bewildering, alluring. 
 
 No blue eyes so dark before, but still so blue, so 
 passionate, so appealing; no hair so Titian red though 
 every lock has golden gleams; no mouth so alluringly 
 romantic as her coral lips laugh "Love me for I love 
 you and another ;" no cheeks so rounded yet delicate 
 and blushing. 
 
 Beneath this face, a neck of ivory satin, and arms, 
 shoulders, and bosom of Greek's fairest statue, with 
 gleaming snow tints; for this miniature is the work of 
 some Flemish master. And after the custom of the 
 time and the school of Sir Peter Lely, the girl has 
 been painted in a deshabille vi light lawn and fairy lair, 
 that scarcely conceals the marvelous beauties of her 
 form and graces of her figure.
 
 86 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "By the divil's tail! Do you think Saint Antony 
 could have turned a cold shoulder to that!" mutters 
 Lanty, glancing at the picture. " Don't I myself, when 
 the master ain't about, sneak a look at it on the sly, it's 
 so beautiful ! " 
 
 "But this is not her real likeness?" asks D'Arnac. 
 " It exaggerates her loveliness! " 
 
 " Oh wirra! It don't do her justice," laments Lanty. 
 ' ' Add to that the fascinations of the Queen of Sheba, who 
 ruined Solomon, and the divilish arts of Cleopatra, who 
 put Antony in her pocket, and ye've only half the 
 charms of Madame O'Brien Dillon. Bad cess to her! ' 
 
 "And her husband never spoke to me of this!" 
 returns D'Arnac, his eyes still devouring the beauty of 
 the portrait. 
 
 "Faix, and he doesn't know anything about it. The 
 diamonds around it are worth one hundred louis. I 
 was keeping it for a very rainy day, and, by me soul! if 
 he'd seen her features he'd never let me sell it, or pawn 
 it, or make any decent use of her treacherous face. In 
 fact, I've been afraid to let him put eyes on it, because 
 when he thinks of her, he goes into such spasms of 
 jealous rage against her and her Uncle Johnny, it 
 makes him sick for a week. Besides, the less he thinks 
 of that divil the better it is for him." 
 
 "You don't seem to like her!" remarks D'Arnac. 
 "You think she betrayed him?" 
 
 " She did worse !" 
 
 "Worse?" 
 
 "She betrayed me! Faix, I could forgive her 
 betraying the Colonel he's her husband that's natural. 
 But she betrayed me also! Didn't I see her speaking 
 to the Austrians while they were surrounding the 
 house, when she pretended she'd gone out to look for 
 her dog. Musha, was it a dog that was scratching at 
 the window ? Don't I know it was an Austrian officer ? 
 Didn't that Italian valet, Malavello, say to me, when 
 he, with four other wretches, tried to beat me to death 
 in Paris: 'This is with Madame O'Brien Dillon's 
 compliments! ' By the snakes of St. Patrick! look out 
 for her ! beware of her ! She'll be your death if she 
 knows you're looking for her ! She's got some influence 
 in high quarters that gives her a hold on the very King
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 87 
 
 of France, I belave ! Musha, once or twice I've thought 
 she might be Madame de Maintenon herself!" 
 
 "Madame de Maintenon! that old hag!" shrieks 
 D'Arnac. Then he bursts into a fit of laughter, 
 but a moment after goes to the door and looks out 
 nervously and returning says: "Lanty, never speak 
 of the power behind the throne even walls have 
 ears." 
 
 For though Louis XIV. had but a few more months to 
 live, the power of his mistress was so great in France 
 that even the princesses of the blood cringed to her, and 
 doffed their hats to her, and the ladies of the court 
 were more obsequious to her than if she had been 
 Queen of France. 
 
 " Now," says D'Arnac, his eyes still lingering on the 
 beautiful picture, "you kept this for a rainy day, Mr. 
 Lanty. Your master's purse is not over well-filled to 
 support the position of a colonel in the Imperial army. 
 Permit me to give you, for the Colonel's use, the 
 hundred louis you think this is worth." 
 
 "Not when it's for me master's business you're 
 takin' it! " answers Lanty. 
 
 "And it's for your master's good that I give you 
 this! " replies D'Arnac, who has hastily written an 
 order on the Commissary General. "Do not fail to 
 remember one thing that your master and I are 
 comrades. I know he is too proud to even hint of 
 money to me " 
 
 "Wirra! we've been nearly beggars since we came 
 here, and divil a word has he ever said to anybody ? " 
 
 "But remember this," goes on Raymond, "that my 
 purse is O'Brien Dillon's purse, as his sword is my 
 sword and my sword is his. Notify me if your master 
 wants funds to pay his debts, or friendship to help him 
 spend his money." 
 
 "God bless you for that first! " cries Lanty. "Faix, 
 I'm very glad now I saved ye from bein' blown up that 
 night! " 
 
 Then he gives Raymond a leer and whispers: "I 
 hope your honor will have better luck with your captive 
 than my master did with his." 
 
 Here their conversation is interrupted by the return of 
 O'Brien Dillon.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 A few moments after D'Arnac and he, followed by 
 Lanty, go off to his horses that are already saddled ; for 
 Prince Eugene is about leaving Rastadt, and the Irish 
 Colonel travels in his suite. 
 
 Just before Dillon mounts, these two, whose sixty 
 days of peace has cemented a friendship caused by two 
 nights of battle, bid each other adieu as men who love 
 each other. 
 
 There are tears in O'Brien's eyes as he wrings 
 Raymond's hand, and mutters: "You remember the 
 word, my boy together. Wherever you hear it, 
 'TOGETHER' will make you think of O'Brien Dillon. 
 Now, good-bye, my dear boy, till I come back to you 
 a general, from the Turks, with Ottoman plunder 
 enough to support Madame O'Brien Dillon like a lady 
 of the land. Don't forget you've an enemy in Paris 
 who wants your blood, as well as I iiave. But get all 
 there is out of life, even, if necessary, a gallant death." 
 
 And so, with a last grip of friendship, the two part, 
 Dillon riding away with the Prince Eugene to fight the 
 unspeakable Turk on the banks of the Danube, and the 
 next day D'Arnac, in the suite of his chief, the Due de 
 Villars, turning back to the pleasant country of France, 
 which is just throwing off the snows of Winter and put- 
 ting on its Springtime hues.
 
 BOOK II. 
 THE SPECULATION IN BEAUTY. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 COUSIN CHARLIE. 
 
 So IT comes to pass, about a week after this, Raymond 
 d'Arnac follows his chief along the Rue de Charenton 
 to the barracks of the the Musquetaires Noirs, just 
 outside the gates of Paris. 
 
 Here they are met by a number of the great officers 
 of state and many of the nobility, and congratulated 
 with great show of enthusiasm upon the success of 
 the French arms in the last campaign. 
 
 Curiously enough, ihough there is a large crowd of 
 voluble Parisians who have come outside the walls to 
 see the return of France's victorious Mare"chal, there is 
 but little enthusiasm among them. Even the volatile 
 French find it hard to cheer and viva when their purses 
 are very empty, and in some cases their stomachs also. 
 
 In the enthusiasm of youth and the joy of return 
 covered with the laurels of the battlefield, D'Arnac's 
 mind does not rest upon this. 
 
 After he has been dismissed by his chief, with a hearty 
 pat on the shoulder, and "run away to your sweetheart, 
 my boy! " he rides into the town of Paris, through that 
 great arch Louis XIV. has just erected to the victories 
 of his reign, at the place called the Port St. Antoine, 
 and 'coming through the crowded commercial part of the
 
 pO A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 city's streets (now getting too harrow for its business), 
 he crosses the river by the bridge Notre Dame, and by 
 the time fie has reached the Rue St. Andre in the Fau- 
 bourg St. Germain, and stands in front of the Hotel de 
 Crevecoeur, one of the handsomest residences in that 
 quarter, occupied by the nobility of France, he has for- 
 gotten all about it. 
 
 The streets have seemed as "busy, the rush of 
 people as great, as he had ever before seen m the capital 
 of France. His mind, however, is occupied not with 
 the state of the people, but with the state of his family, 
 for a courier two days before had reached him, bearing 
 the news of his uncle's illness, to hasten his return to 
 Paris. 
 
 The bowing flunkeys have scarcely ushered him into 
 the main salon before his aunt, Clothilde the Comtesse 
 de Crevecoeur, has her arms arounc lisneck, whispering: 
 " You come to a house of mourning! " 
 
 " Dead! my uncle! " gasps Raymond, for D'Arnac's 
 father had passed away some ten years before this, and 
 had left his little son Raymond and his only daughter 
 Mimi to the care of their uncle, and Henri de Creve- 
 cceur had been very kind to the two orphans. 
 
 " Of course not dead! " says his aunt sharply, "but 
 very sick." 
 
 As the Comte de Crevecoeur has been very sick, 
 according to his wife's statement, for the last four or 
 five years, Raymond recovers from the shock and says 
 rather snappishly: "Pish! why do you always make a 
 tragedy, my dear aunt? I suppose the dying one is at 
 breakfast! " 
 
 "Yes, he's eating a little. " 
 
 At which Raymond bursts into a laugh, and his aunt 
 says : "I am ashamed of you in the house of mourning, 
 too! " 
 
 " Diable ! he's not dead! " 
 
 " But he is always threatening to die! " answers his 
 aunt. " However, I suppose we must not put on black 
 until he is no more. " Then she becomes voluble and 
 babbles: "Raymond, how handsome you look and a 
 colonel you will be a general at an earlier age than your 
 poor father was! And how becoming! I always liked uni- 
 forms, even before I left the convent." With this a pair
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 91 
 
 of plump arms go around Raymond again, in an embrace 
 that is almost maternal, for young D'Arnac has a taking 
 way with all women even those of his own family and 
 the Comtesse de Crevecoeur's heart has not been withered 
 by age. She is scarcely forty, and has the plump 
 embonpoint of a lady who has lived very comfortably and 
 contentedly, though she has often remarked during the 
 last few years, that hers is a house of mourning. 
 
 " I think I'll go in and see him! " says Raymond. 
 
 "Yes, he has been inquiring for you. Every day 
 every hour he has asked for you. Between every meal 
 he has said : ' Will Raymond come in time ? ' ' 
 
 " In time for what dinner ? " cries the youth, irrev- 
 erently, and laughing lightly steps into the dining room 
 and slaps a hearty old invalid on the back. 
 
 The invalid is breakfasting upon two chops, an omelet 
 aux fines herbes, a pint of Rhine wine, and some sweet- 
 meats. He also has a cup of the coffee of Mocha in front 
 of him. an essence introduced some forty years before 
 this by Soleman Aga, the distinguished Minister from 
 the Sublime Porte to the French capital, where it has 
 now become the rage, little restaurants for its sale 
 bearing the signs of cage's being common in most of the 
 fashionable streets. 
 
 " You are doing very well for a dying man in Lent," 
 says Raymond. 
 
 "Ah! Ha! "grins the invalid, " I always grow very 
 sick in Lent. Then I need not abstain from meat." 
 
 "Neither shall I, as a traveler," replies Raymond, 
 "and with your permission I will join you my uncle." 
 
 "Not in these chops!" cries the invalid. "Order 
 more for yourself, and tell me of your glory. " 
 
 And the two have a very pleasant meal, towards the 
 close of which, however, Raymond says, after recounting 
 his adventures in the army: " A courier came to me to 
 hasten my return. What did you want to see me 
 about ? " 
 
 "Oh, nothing! I imagined, perhaps, you \vouKI not 
 mind returning to Paris a little sooner. Then I thought 
 \vc might discuss my will. De Moncrirf was here and 
 drew it up for inc. You know 1 am poor now," 
 mutters the Comte de Crevecceur. 
 
 "Poor! "
 
 92 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "Yes, my investments in the billets d'etat have 
 turned out very badly. They pay no interest. The 
 country is ruined bankrupt! " 
 
 " What makes you think that! " asks Raymond. 
 
 " Have you had your pay for the last twelve months ? " 
 
 "No!"' 
 
 " When are you going to get it ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " Neither do I know when I'm going to get my 
 interest. That is what makes me anxious for your 
 future." 
 
 "I have my own estates." 
 
 "Yes, but they are too small ; for you will be the head 
 of the house when I die, my boy. De Moncrief, you 
 know, as cousin, comes after you." 
 
 "Oh, don't think about dying," laughs Raymond, 
 looking at his uncle, who is perhaps sixty, and remarking 
 sententiously : ' ' You've a good twenty perhaps thirty 
 years before you. I shall, doubtless, be killed in some 
 engagement long before that. In fact, twice three 
 times yes, four times in the last campaign I was 
 nearer death than you have ever been." 
 
 "Diddle!" shrieks his uncle. , "Do you think gun- 
 powder as dangerous as doctors ? " 
 
 This gunpowder idea sets D'Arnac's mind on the 
 little Jeanne. After a few minutes, he excuses him- 
 self to the Count and getting converse of his aunt, he 
 says: " Where is she ?" for he thinks it is curious that 
 the child does not come to welcome him. 
 
 "Julie! You know she is at Melun." 
 
 "No, I was not referring to her! " mutters Raymond, 
 biting the end of an adolescent moustache, for the little 
 Comtesse de Beaumont is a child of twelve, and tnc rich 
 heiress the family have set their hearts upon his marry- 
 ing when he has sown his wild oats and she has left her 
 convent. ' 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Little Mademoiselle Quinault. " 
 
 "Oh, that brat! " 
 
 "Brat?" 
 
 "Worse! I could not have her in the house. She 
 objected to eating with my maid. She the daughter 
 of a strolling player woman ! "
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 93 
 
 " But she saved my life ! " 
 
 "Well, I have done my duty by her! " 
 
 " In what way ? " 
 
 "I have placed her at the convent Les Filles de la 
 Croix ! " 
 
 " Morblcu ! " gasps D'Arnac, "that is a school for 
 the daughters of valets and cooks. " 
 
 "Precisely! You would not have had me send her to 
 ' L 'Assumption or Saint Cyr. " 
 
 " That is just where I would have her! " 
 
 "What? Doing her lessons with the daughters of 
 marquises and dukes and counts ? W T hy she'd have a 
 bowing acquaintance with some of the royal family 
 soon. She's brazen enough for it! " remarks Madame 
 de Crevecoeur. "She told me " here the lady's voice 
 almost falters with emotion "she told me there was 
 the aristocracy of art as well as the aristocracy of birth. 
 But the mother superior of Les Filles de la Croix has 
 pertinent instructions about her! " mutters Clothilde 
 significantly. 
 
 "In that case," returns Raymond, "please give me 
 an order on the convent for the child." Then, seeing 
 his aunt hesitate, he goes on commaiidingly: "Just sit 
 down and write it at once! " 
 
 "What are you going to do with her ? " 
 
 "I am about to put her in a school where she need 
 not associate with the daughters of valets and cooks! " 
 
 "Man Dieu ! Would you treat her as a count' 
 shudders Clothilde; but is wary enough to make no 
 direct opposition to her nephew's wishes. 
 
 Seizing the note the Countess hands him, D'Arnac 
 says: "You meant for the best, but you hardly umlerstai d 
 little Jeanne's spirit." Then he continues in tones thai 
 send shudders through Clothilde's plump members, 
 " Le Due de Villars and I are going to do great things 
 for this little lady. The Marechal himself has promised 
 to help me with her dot." 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! You are not going to marry her ? Kav- 
 mond, remember your family the blood < ! the 
 Turennes!" screams the Countess wildly. 
 
 " Not to myself! " laughs the young man so heartily 
 that he partly relieves Clothilde's fears. a< IK makes his 
 adieux.
 
 94 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 Coming out from the great hotel he is soon at the Rue 
 Dauphin. 
 
 Here he encounters a voiture driving along with great 
 cracking of whip, for the jehus of old Paris were just as 
 vociferous as those of to-day, and even more brutal and 
 savage in their use of the fouet upon their unfortunate 
 animals. 
 
 The vehicle is empty. Springing into this he 
 commands: "Hotel de Chateaubrien ! " 
 
 "All right! I know it Rue St. Honore, Colonel!" 
 returns the cvcAer noticing Raymond's epaulettes and 
 uniform. 
 
 " Very well ! Drive as if the archers were after you ! " 
 replies D'Arnac, and with much cracking of whip, the 
 wretched beast flies across the Pont Neuf, jostling its 
 crowd of hucksters, and shortly after turns into the Rue 
 St. Honore, where Madame de Chateaubrien occupies 
 the great .hotel of that name in the new Faubourg that 
 is just being built up by the nobles around the palace of 
 the Tuileries. 
 
 The young man finds his sister at home. "I have 
 been expecting you, Raymond," she cries, "ever since 
 the courier, three days ago, brought news of the sign- 
 ing of the treaty of peace. " 
 
 Then she pats him on the shoulder, and calls him her 
 brother, Monsieur le Colonel, and gives him some kisses 
 in a piquant yet sisterly way, her bright eyes shining 
 with joy over the return of her brother. 
 
 Mimi de Chateaubrien is one of the most dashing 
 young matrons in France. Scarcely over twenty-one, 
 she has made a very great match, her brother assisting 
 her even to the depletion of his own fortune for the dot 
 necessary for so grand an alliance as she has made, Le 
 Marquis de Chateaubrien being one of the very great 
 nobles of the court. 
 
 After a moment Raymond asks: " Your husband ? " 
 
 "Oh, Raoul is at present in Southern France. The 
 winters of Paris are too severe for him." 
 
 "I came up hurriedly from Beaupere (mentioning 
 her beautiful little estate on the banks of the Rhone) a 
 few weeks ahead of my husband. Madame d'Orleans 
 honored me by requesting my presence. You know," 
 here Mimi glances about the apartment and lowers her
 
 A PRINCESS in 1'ARIS. 95 
 
 voice, "it is expected after the demise of the King, the 
 Duke will be Regent, and the Duchess has been kind 
 enough to suggest to me I may be one of her ladies of 
 honor." 
 
 "That's no news in the army," answers D'Arnac, 
 " even now they're betting at the Hague that his Majesty 
 will not live out the month." 
 
 "Hush, not so loud! "mutters Mimi, "Cousin Charlie 
 is in the next room! " 
 
 " No, Cousin Charlie is in this one ! " says a voice so 
 suddenly that it makes them start, as rising from a large 
 fauteuil upon which he has been sitting, the back of 
 which has concealed him, Charles de Moncrief, a little 
 grin rippling his somewhat senile but intellectual coun- 
 tenance, rises and continues: " Raymond, mon garfon, 
 welcome to Paris! " 
 
 Then he laughs again " Mimi, don't look so pale! 
 Though I am the Procureur du Roy I shall not mention 
 to his Majesty that the world knows of his bad health 
 entre nous, I think the King knows it also, better than 
 anyone." 
 
 With this he gives a welcoming hand to Raymond, 
 and pats Mimi's cheeks till they blush, for he is 
 very much older than his two cousins, having full 
 sixty years to his credit on the book of time, of which 
 Cousin Charlie would like to wipe out about thirty-five 
 years. 
 
 In fact, though a little shaky even now, De Moncrief 
 lives the life of a young man, as far as his strength and 
 health permits, and there is no gayer nor wickeder cour- 
 tier at Versailles, and no greater roysterer at the Foire de 
 Saint Germain than this man, who had been once an abbe 
 in the French church, appointed under De Fleury, but 
 whose methods of life had brought such scandal on his 
 religion that it had been suggested to him by the 
 Cardinal that he should forego all hope of preferment in 
 the Church, and take to that of the law, " a profession 
 you are much better fitted for, my dear De Moncrief," 
 had whispered his Holiness. 
 
 "And if I prefer to remain in the Church and become 
 a cardinal ?" the young abbe had sneered. 
 
 "In that case your diocese will be the Uastile!' 
 Monsigneur de Fleury had replied, with a grin, which
 
 96 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 settled Cousin Charlie's occupation in life, and he is 
 now the Procureur du Roy. 
 
 Notwithstanding his rank, which gives him entre 
 to the court and association with the great nobles, he 
 is one of the most astute lawyers in the kingdom, 
 believing that the "end always justifies the means," a 
 maxim of Cardinal Richelieu that he has stored carefully 
 away in his mind. 
 
 For he revered and admired the memory of that great 
 statesman, though he did not love it, for Charles de 
 Moncrief never in his life loved anything but him- 
 self, save his porte-monnaie , for which he would even 
 sacrifice his own personal wishes and pleasures. 
 
 But over all that cynicism which generally comes to a 
 man of his temperament in later years, he has thrown 
 the bonhomie of youth, its vices and its associations. 
 He is more apt to be found with the young officers of 
 the Garde, or the young nobles of Versailles, than 
 with the great officers of state. Consequently he 
 affects the society of young women, loving them as well 
 as if he were a young man, and expecting them to love 
 him likewise. 
 
 This very lightness and effervescence of character 
 has made him a favorite with young D'Arnac, of whom 
 he playfully says: "We have been boys together!" 
 and also would make him a favorite of Mimi de Chateau- 
 brien did she not somewhat distrust him, for one or 
 two anecdotes have come to her ears through ladies' 
 lips. 
 
 Altogether she thinks Cousin Charlie very nice, if 
 he were not such a wicked old gentleman, and did not 
 wish to appear such a young one. Besides, the same 
 blood flows in their veins, and the Crevecceurs, 
 D'Arnacs, De Turrennes and De Moncriefs have always 
 hung together as a family, backing each other up, 
 and fighting right manfully to give each other titles, 
 place and wealth, and consequently have succeeded 
 better than a good many other families who have 
 fought among and destroyed themselves. 
 
 "Now, Raymond, you are in Paris again, we'll have 
 some gay evenings together, " continues De Moncrief. 
 " I know half a dozen of the leading actresses of Le 
 Fran$ais and Des Ita iennes, as well as one or two of
 
 A 1'KINVKSS OF PARIS. 97 
 
 the ladies of the opera, who will be delighted to meet 
 such a dashing young colonel." 
 
 Whereon Mimi bites her lips, but a moment after she 
 smiles and says, rather too pointedly to please this 
 y Duthful old gentleman: "Brava! Introduce him, 
 Cousin Charlie. The ladies of the opera and theatre of 
 your day must have forgotten how to be very danger- 
 ous! " 
 
 At this Raymond, stifling a laugh, remarks: " Apropos 
 of ladies of the* theatre, I have a very young one under 
 my charge." 
 
 " A young one! Introduce me, my boy!" cries De 
 Moncrief, enthusiastically. * 
 
 "I will!" says Raymond, and astonishes both his 
 sister and Cousin Charlie by telling them the story of 
 la petite Quinault and asking Mimi to accompany him to 
 Les filles de la Croix. 
 
 "I'll go this instant! " answers Mimi. "She saved 
 your life!" and, summoning a lackey, orders her 
 carriage. 
 
 "The sisters will prcbably imagine Madame la 
 Marquise visits them to obtain a new maid-servant," 
 sneers De Moncrief. " Supposing you and I, D'Arnac, 
 go together and rescue the little beauty. Then we will 
 bring her here and see what we will do with her! You 
 say Jeanne is pretty and fourteen. Egad, Raymond, 
 my boy, I feel like her guardian myself! " laughs 
 Cousin Charlie. 
 
 So the two depart upon their' errand, arriving at the 
 convent in the Rue Saint Antoine to receive a surprise. 
 
 The mother superior reads the note of the Countess 
 de Crevecoeur; then says, devoutly crossing herself: 
 "Thank God for His blessings! You've come to take 
 her away! " 
 
 "Certainly! Please bring her here," replies D'Arnac, 
 who has got to thinking of the last time he took Jeanne 
 from a convent, the night before Friburg. 
 
 This the mother superior is pleased to do quickly, 
 remarking, " Present my humble salutations to Madame 
 laComtesse, your aunt. " 
 
 Little Jeanne, being brought down, gives a cry of 
 joy, and astonishes Raymond by shouting, merrily: 
 " Hurrah! the curtain's rising! Act Second at last! '
 
 98 . A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 Then, coming to him, she kisses his hand and 
 courtesies, saying: " Mon Seigneur has come to take 
 me away ? " 
 
 " Of course," mutters D'Arnac, and, presenting her 
 formally to Monsieur de Moncrief, he puts her in the 
 coach, where the girl says, complacently: " Now I feel 
 comfortable once more! I am in my own rank! " 
 
 "What makes you so pale, Jeanne ? " asks Raymond, 
 who has been looking at the child's fac and has seen 
 some new emotion in it. 
 
 "Discipline, and bread and water!" she answers, 
 savagely; then continues: " They said I had a proud 
 stomach. I would not sit down to eat with offspring 
 of the rabble of Paris I whom Le Due de Villars called 
 the little Princess." 
 
 Then warming to her wrongs during the ride across 
 Paris, she sends the Procureur du Roy into spasms of 
 laughter by describing her efforts to assert her dignity 
 among the daughters of the fishmongers, butchers and 
 cooks of Paris. 
 
 But while, he laughs at the little girl, Cousin Charlie 
 is deeply disappointed in her beauty. And shortly 
 after, arriving at the Hotel de Chateaubrien, he excuses 
 himself to its mistress and goes down the steps of the 
 grand house, bitterly thinking to himself, "If she had 
 been beautiful, it would have been another chance! 
 He has escaped Monsieur Lenoir and German bullets 
 when will I get another opportunity ? " 
 
 De Moncrief's idea as to Jeanne's beauty seems to be 
 coincided in by Mimi, as gaining opportunity, she 
 whispers to her brother: "Why, I thought you said 
 she was pretty! " 
 
 " So I did!" returns Raymond; then looks at the 
 child, astonished, for somehow Jeanne seems to have 
 grown awkward since he saw her two months ago, being 
 at that age when girls do not know what to do with 
 their hands and feet. This is emphasized by the 
 short, prim and coarse uniform of a poor convent 
 which displays uncompromisingly every angularity of 
 incipient womanhood. 
 
 However, half an hour afterwards, little Jeanne is a 
 different being. She has thrown off convent garb, 
 and is once more dressed in the fine clothes that her
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 99 
 
 guardian had furnished her, before she left Rastadt. 
 She has eaten a dainty dinner, and her eyes are spark- 
 ling with happiness as they follow Raymond, her little 
 lips whispering to herself: " Man Seigneur!" 
 
 "Yes, she is rather a better figure now to present to 
 the Chanoinesse," remarks Mimi, taking in the picture 
 before her. Then she asks Raymond, seriously: 
 " You still wish to place her at L 'Assumption ! " 
 
 " If that is the best school in Paris, yes." 
 
 " It will be difficult, but we'll try." 
 
 A step along the Rue St. Honore", and they, together 
 with little Jeanne, are introduced into this very fash- 
 ionable convent and received by the head of this 
 aristocratic maison des filles, the Chanoinesse de 
 Chevreuse. 
 
 This lady, a daughter of one of the proudest families 
 in France, of course has heard of Madame de Chateau- 
 brien. On little Jeanne being presented to her care, 
 she looks astonished, and then says hesitatingly: "She 
 is not your your daughter, Madame la Marquise? " 
 
 " Mon Dieu /" shudders Mimi. "Do I look so old?" 
 
 But this speech is mistaken by the little Jeanne, 
 whose sojourn at " Les filles de la Croix" has made her 
 both sensitive and haughty. She interjects savagely: 
 "No, I am not Madame's daughter! My mother was 
 an actress. I was born in Strassburg in 1699. My 
 father was the grandest acrobat of his age. He was 
 the only man who could turn a triple somersault and 
 broke his neck doing it. He was called the Chevalier 
 of the Spring-board ! Now there are no more like him ! " 
 
 This pedigree settles the affair. The Chanoinesse, 
 struggling to keep the laughter out of her eyes, 
 remarks: "It is impossible to receive any one but the 
 daughter of a noble here, no matter if you are 
 her guardian, Monsieur d'Arnac," for Raymond 
 has hurriedly told her his story; "no matter if 
 she has saved your life. Our rules are imperative. 
 I think, as you seem to wish to do very well by the 
 little girl, you had better take her to ' Des Capacities,' 
 Place Louis le Grand." 
 
 And as they go out, Beatrice de Chevreuse mutters to 
 herself: " He is a good youth, a handsome youth. To- 
 night I'll pray for his good guidance, for some clay this
 
 IOO A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 child will be a beautiful woman. He has the same 
 face as Claude," and there are tears in this white- 
 haired woman's eyes, for she is thinking of a youth who 
 had left her side to march under Turenneto the Rhine, 
 and who had never come back to her. 
 
 Taking Madame de Chevreuse's advice, they find Des 
 Capacities a very comfortable school, where the 
 daughters of attorneys, notaries, silversmiths, and the 
 better class of bourgeois send their daughters. The 
 mother superior, bowing to the ground to Madame la 
 Marquise, tells her that she is a protege of the Chateau- 
 briens, that they had furnished her convent dower. Here 
 they leave her, D'Arnac especially stipulating there is 
 to be no discipline and bread and water for Jeanne, no 
 matter how naughty she is. 
 
 ' '* I think it is the best thing you could have done for 
 her," remarks Mimi, as they leave the convent. 
 
 The immediate care of little Jeanne being off his 
 hands, Raymond suddenly turns his mind to the mission 
 of O'Brien Dillon. 
 
 His sister being a very competent authority on the 
 beauties of Paris, he goes to questioning her upon the 
 latest sensations in the line of professional beauties at 
 the French court. Finally growing enthusiastic, he 
 describes the miniature so vividly that Mimi returns 
 laughingly: "There is no one like the beauty you speak 
 of in this world ! " 
 
 "Then, "she jeers, " Raymond, you are in love ! You 
 have seen this wonder, this paragon, these eyes of 
 'pathetic violet,' this hair of gilded Titian red! " 
 
 "No," says D'Arnac, chewing his moustache, for 
 most young men do not care to be laughed at, "I 
 have never seen her, but I have seen her picture." 
 
 "Her picture? Tell me!" 
 
 And this compels him to disclose the story of O'Brien 
 Dillon. 
 
 ' ' Very well, " replies Mimi, ' ' bring me the miniature. 
 Then I can tell you if I have ever seen her. I will look 
 at it through my own eyes, not through yours." 
 
 "I will!" answers D'Arnac, and being full of his 
 subject, he goes hurriedly to the Hotel de Crevecoeur, 
 and shortly returns, bearing in his hand the tin case 
 which contains the miniature he has been describing.
 
 A PRINCKSS 01 I'AKIS. IOI 
 
 Then, opening it, he places it in front of his sister, 
 and says: " Tel) me, did I rave about this?" 
 
 "No," ejaculates Mimi. "She is more beautiful 
 than even you said. But it is not a real picture. No 
 woman was ever as lovely as this. It is an ideal ! " then 
 laughs. "You will have to go to Heaven to find the 
 prototype of this, for it is not in Paris. Madame de 
 Parabere, the prettiest woman of the court the last lady 
 whom Monsieur le Due d'Orleans has honored with his 
 far-reaching attentions, is ugly compared to it. " 
 
 An instant after she sayh: "Have you investigated 
 the whole of this miniature? " 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "I mean what there is behind the picture, perhaps. 
 This box is too large to be occupied entirely with this 
 little ivory." And her facile fingers search hurriedly 
 for some concealed spring in the case. 
 
 An instant after they find and press it, the miniature 
 flies up there is an open space behind. 
 
 " Pish ! It is empty ! " ejaculates D'Arnac, disappoint- 
 ment in his tone. 
 
 " Save this little piece of paper," returns Mimi, 
 " which may give you a better clue than diamonds," as 
 she reads hastily from it, 
 
 Address Monsieur Poisson, 
 
 Rue Dauphin, 
 Paris. 
 
 "Poisson! I've heard that name before," mutters 
 Raymond. A pause of thought and he ejaculates, ' ' The 
 address of the letter to her uncle. The one Dillon 
 spoke of in his story. Mimi, have you ever heard of 
 such a man ? " 
 
 " Yes; in the playbills of Le Francais, " answers his 
 sister. "He's the man who does the old pompous 
 comedy roles. He makes every one shriek with laugh- 
 ter as 'Crispin.' ' 
 
 "'Crispin!' I know the fellow! I fell out of my 
 chair laughing at him six months ago, before I joined 
 my regiment," replies D'Arnac. 
 
 " But he may not be the one. There may be a hun- 
 dred Poissons in Paris." suggests Mimi. 
 
 "I'll discover where he lives. If it's Rue Dauphin 
 that will probably settle it,"
 
 102 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 u Well, if you want to learn about actors, I know 
 some one who can give you the history of every one of 
 them, and actresses also." 
 
 " Who ? " asks Raymond, eagerly, 
 
 "Cousin Charlie," answers Madame la Marquise, 
 with a mocking laugh. 
 
 "Then, to-night at dinner I'll nail Cousin Charlie," 
 cries D'Arnac, enthusiasm in his voice and confidence 
 in his manner, "for he doesn't know he is beginning a 
 task to which the siege of Friburg and the assault on 
 the German infantry of stout De Arsch were almost as 
 the play of infants." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 POISSON THE LIAR. 
 
 RAYMOND strolls to dinner that evening in a very easy 
 frame of mind. The brilliant sights of the city are 
 pleasing to him after his campaign. He looks at the 
 principal thoroughfares, lighted with oil lamps, and 
 thinking " What a grand civilization!" jostles his way 
 quite cheerily along the Rue Dauphin with its crowds of 
 beseeching mendicants, for in the year 1714 there are 
 plenty of starving people, both in the great City of Paris 
 and the Provinces of France, some of which had been 
 devastated by war, and all of them devoured by the 
 Farmiers Generals who collected taxes from them. 
 
 Soon the quick steps of youth bring him into the Rue 
 de Fosses Saint Germain, and a few minutes after he has 
 passed through the Rues de Conde and Des Maries and is 
 at Pascal's Armenian Cafe in the Foire de Saint Germain. 
 Here, mid the light of flickering candles, he finds a 
 section of gay Paris. Cousin Charlie is seated at a little 
 table where preparations for a feast for the gods are 
 going on rapidly, for Monsieur le Procureur, loving 
 himself, loves his stomach. 
 
 De Soubise of the Garde and De Rohan of the 
 Musquetaires Noirs, two dashing young officers, are with 
 him. Abbes, generals, nobles, and a smattering of 
 hangers-on of the court, make the rest of the company 
 at the surrounding tables.
 
 A PRINCESS ill I'AKIS. 103 
 
 "I have the pleasure of knowing Monsieur d'. \rn;u '> 
 sister!" remarks Soubise on introduction. 
 
 "And I have the honor of greeting the hero of 
 Friburg!" adds I )e Rohan, who lias seen service in 
 Flanders and on the Rhine. " How is our old Chief ? " 
 
 ' ' The Due de Villars was very well this morning when 
 I left him," replies Raymond, as they sit down to 
 dinner. 
 
 A moment after they are taking their soup. Soubise 
 remarks: " We heard as much in Paris about D'Arnac's 
 lucky escapes at Friburg as you did on the Rhine, De 
 Rohan. De Moncrief told the whole town the details 
 of his cousin's taking two bastions." 
 
 "Yes, I had a few letters from the front, speaking in 
 very high terms of your conduct, my boy so I made 
 them public ; they won't hurt you with the young ladies 
 of honor at Versailles! " laughs Cousin Charlie. 
 
 " Letters from whom ?" asks Raymond, carelessly. 
 
 " From the man who knew the most about your gal- 
 lantry the Chief of Staff of your Division Monsieur 
 Lenoir! " 
 
 As the name leaves the lips of De Moncrief, his eyes 
 turn on Raymond, and he notes that a drop of soup falls 
 from the boy's uplifted spoon. 
 
 "Yes, no one should know it better than he!" 
 returns D'Arnac. Then breaking into a forced laugh, 
 he says: " Pardieu ! I sometimes thought Lenoir, by the 
 places he put me in, meant I should not live through 
 the campaign." 
 
 "Perhaps that was owing to me, my dear boy!" 
 utters De Moncrief proudly. 
 
 " You! "gasps Raymond, astonished at the confession. 
 
 "Yes, as I know Lenoir quite well! said to him as 
 Chief of Staff: ' Please give my cousin a chance to win 
 his spurs I want him to be a general before his father 
 was.' Parbleu ! I'm glad Lenoir did not forget it. Instead 
 of colonel you would now be a captain." 
 
 "Yes, I've done very well," returns Raymond, look- 
 ing at his epaulettes and forgetting in the pride of mili- 
 tary glory Dillon's remarks about the young officers who 
 did not come back. 
 
 Shortly after the conversation changes to the dom.^ 
 of Paris and Versailles, De Soubise expatiating on tin-
 
 104 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 beauty of Madame de Parabere, the last favorite of the 
 Due d'Orleans, and De Rohan remarking upon the 
 reigning star at the opera the dancer, la belle Francoise 
 Prevost. This brings them easily enough to the Theatre 
 Francais. 
 
 "By-the-bye, would you like me to show you some of 
 the heroes of the boards ?." remarks De Moncrief, who 
 is rather proud of his knowledge of the stage, an 
 unknown land always interesting to the uninitiated. 
 
 " Morbleu ! I prefer the heroines of the stage," 
 laughs De Soubise. 
 
 "I expect we can find some of the heroes at Pro- 
 cope's! " suggests Cousin Charlie. "Shall we step over 
 there ?" 
 
 "Agreed!" cries Raymond, thinking of Poisson. 
 "Instanter! " rejoins De Soubise, for the dinner is fin- 
 ished and he is anxious by means of the heroes of the 
 stage to get introduction to one of its heroines, the 
 beautiful Mademoiselle Seine, who is at this time mak- 
 ing the hearts of Parisian gallants beat very fast, as they 
 gaze on her charms across the candles of the Theatre 
 Francais. 
 
 De Rohan, however, excuses himself, remarking that 
 he has an appointment-this evening. 
 
 "Ah," chuckles De Moncrief, " we are about to worship 
 Thalia, while you seek Venus, I presume, my young 
 gallant! " 
 
 "No, only a lady of the opera! " laughs De Rohan, 
 and departs upon his way, as the three others stroll 
 toward the Rue de Fosses Saint Germain and Cafe 
 Procope". 
 
 As they step along Monsieur Le Procureur oracularly 
 remarks: "I hope to introduce to you my old friend, 
 Michael Baron ! You boys never saw such an actor. 
 He has left the stage now these twenty years, but I 
 remember him in the days of Moliere. We will probably 
 find him and two or three others of his cronies playing 
 dominoes this evening." 
 
 "Will we see the man who makes all Paris laugh 
 with his 'Crispin ? ' " queries D'Arnac, leading up to his 
 subject. 
 
 " What ? old Paul Poisson, the idol of the pit. You'll 
 find him wherever there are cards and dice."
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 105 
 
 "Ah! great at cards and dicing! " 
 
 "Yes. And a hint to you, you can gamble with him 
 now. Since Lass, the great pharo player, was here my 
 friend Poisson's purse has been full enough to pay his 
 losses." 
 
 This information causes Raymond to think he is 
 warm on the scent. His friend Dillon's "Uncle 
 Johnny" is a great gambler, and arriving at the Cafe 
 Procop he is delighted to find the elder Poisson is one 
 of the company. 
 
 This place, one of the most popular in Paris, stands 
 immediately opposite the Comedie Franf aise, that had been 
 turned out of its more commodious theatre in the Palais 
 Royal by Cardinal Mazarin to first accommodate the 
 Italian comedians whose patron he was, and afterwards 
 to make room for the Royal Academy of Music, now 
 called the " Opera." 
 
 For Richelieu had founded the Comedie Franfaise, 
 and Mazarin had brought the Italians to Paris, and he 
 gave the French actors a kick with his ecclesiastical 
 foot whenever he could bring it to bear on Monsieur 
 Moliere and his companions of the footlights. 
 
 But Mazarin having passed away, and the King having 
 exported the Italian troupe for playing "The False 
 Prude," a comedy that Madame de Maintenon maintained, 
 quite wisely reflected upon her, the Comedie Franfaise 
 had become again the fashion, and still sustained its 
 prestige, though another troupe of Italians, lured by 
 Gaelic gold, had by this time come to Paris to play 
 against it. 
 
 The popularity of the Theatre Francais made the 
 popularity of the Cafe Procope, which, being opposite to 
 it, was convenient both for its actors and its audiences. 
 
 To the glow of tallow dips, Francois, its proprietor, 
 had added the dazzle of oil lamps, and the place was 
 considered the most brilliantly illuminated of its day. 
 Its sawdust the cleanest, its wines of the finest vintages, 
 its coffee the most genuine of Mochas chicory was yet 
 to come. 
 
 It is by no means crowded as Cousin Charlie and his 
 party enter ; but in a retired corner several guests are 
 gathered together,, some sitting at a table, the others 
 lounging near them.
 
 106 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " Par bleu! we're in luck," whispers De Moncrief. 
 " There's Baron, and beside him is the man you asked 
 about, Raymond, old Paul Poisson himself." 
 
 "Which is Baron ?" 
 
 "Baron is the tall, well-built fellow, sixty years of 
 age if he is a minute, but doesn't believe he is any,older 
 than I am." 
 
 This produces a snicker from De Soubise, who is 
 following immediately after them, as the actor designated 
 has the appearance of a Hercules and the apparent 
 activity of a Mercury, compared to the somewhat 
 emaciated five feet two and rather trembling move- 
 ments of Cousin Charlie. 
 
 As they approach the group at the table, Michel 
 Baron rises and says heartily and easily: "Welcome, 
 Monsieur de Moncrief!" then cries: "Quasimodo, 
 quick ! Chairs for the gentlemen of the court and the 
 gentlemen of the army! " 
 
 While these are being brought by a hump-backed 
 garfon, who has the enormous shoulders of an acrobat 
 and the light flying legs of a rope dancer, a wonderful 
 leer in his sharp twinkling eyes, and an agile flourish in 
 his strong, powerful arms, introductions have been 
 going on, and Raymond finds himself acquainted 
 suddenly with some of the great lights of literature and 
 the stage. 
 
 Old Prosper Crebillon, whose romances and plays 
 have given Paris many nights of naughty enjoyment, 
 says he is pleased to meet the hero of Friburg. 
 
 Little Jacques Campistron, who has just been button- 
 holing Baron for his influence to get a hearing for a 
 play of his at the Franpais, is delighted to return the 
 bow of De Soubise and D'Arnac, thinking a stroll in 
 the Gardens of the Tuileries with these two dashing 
 officers will add to his literary reputation. 
 
 A second after Baron, who has just been introduced 
 to Raymond, begs to have the honor of presenting 
 his friend, Paul Poisson, of the Francais, to the gentle- 
 man who has been so much talked about in Paris during 
 the lust campaign. 
 
 " Pardi ! you'll make him think he's De Villars 
 himself, in a minute!" laughs Cousin Charlie, as they 
 all sit down, for Quasimodo has piled seven chairs on
 
 A PRINCESS OK PARIS. IO7 
 
 each other, and brought them with one quick skip to 
 the group. 
 
 "Isn't he a miracle 5 " chuckles Baron, delighted. 
 That imp of Hercules can carry ten chairs in each hand, 
 and a table in his mouth. 
 
 "We've christened him Quasimodo, Junior, after 
 the old bell-ringer of Notre Dame," remarks Poisson. 
 " Sapristi ! when I look at him, I shudder to think 
 what a success he would have made in comedy roles! " 
 
 Then the conversation drifts towards the stage, for 
 the actors of that day were even more cut off from the 
 general run of men than those of the present time; 
 though they associated with the gentlemen of the 
 court, the court looked upon them as its servants, 
 and the Church anathematized them as the servants of 
 the devil. They get to speaking of the rival company. 
 
 "Those Italians," remarks Baron, oracularly, 
 "disgust God! " 
 
 "While we only disgust Saints! " laughs Poisson so 
 infectiously that all the company burst into a shriek at 
 his humorous countenance. 
 
 "Yes, your jokes go because you laugh at them 
 yourself, Poisson!" returns Baron. " Diable I who 
 can help laughing at your grimaces ? " 
 
 "Do you mean to insinuate," says Poisson, indig- 
 nantly, "that my grimaces are the only funny things 
 about me ? " 
 
 At which there is another shriek of laughter, because 
 Poisson's rage is funnier than his humor, just here 
 Quasimodo makes his appearance with several flasks 
 of Italian wine, ordered by De Moncrief, and the open- 
 ing of the bottles closes the actors' mouths. 
 
 "Ma foil" remarks Cousin Charlie, "you think 
 Italian wine better than Italian comedy." 
 
 " Pardieu ! I can stomach their wine though I can't 
 their Venice farces ! " says Baron, putting his glass 
 down with a smack. 
 
 Then Moncrief and Soubise getting into some discus- 
 sion on Italian vintages, and a crowd of people coming 
 in from across the street, for it is now an entracte in the 
 performance going on at the theatre, Raymond dra\v> 
 his chair alongside of Paul Philippe Poisson, an<: 
 ually leads the conversation from the sta-e to the
 
 108 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 gambling table, which will put him in position to ask 
 questions about John Lauriston, and his niece, Madame 
 O'Brien Dillon. 
 
 While doing this he incidentally receives some other 
 curious information, as he begins his conversation rather 
 deftly for a blunt young soldier in complimenting 
 Poisson on his performance of "Crispin." 
 
 " Parbleu .' I am pleased to have obtained Le 
 Comte d'Arnac's approbation in the role ! " remarks 
 Paul, solemnly; then says with a sigh: "It may be 
 my last great success, as I do not appear very regularly 
 now." 
 
 "Man Dieu ! that is unkind to Parts!" returns 
 Raymond, who has shrewdly discerned that old Poisson 
 is a mass of vanity, like many other ac tors. 
 
 "Then Paris must suffer. At present I am instruct- 
 ing some of the younger members of my family in the 
 arts of the stage, one of whom, Arnoul, they say will 
 excel his father, because, hang their impudence, they 
 say he is uglier ! " answers the comedian with a chuckle 
 so hideous that it would send Raymond into a spasm, 
 did not at this moment the old actor add: "You 
 must visit me at my school Rue Dauphin, No. 17." 
 
 Rue Dauphin is the address that O'Brien Dillon 
 mentioned. Raymond is on the qui vive at once. 
 
 " I shall be most happy," he replies. Then a gleam of 
 cunning flying to his mind, he suggests : " I presume you 
 have some beautiful pupils, as well as intelligent ones." 
 
 "You mean girls?" cries Paul. "No girls! I 
 would not be bothered with the minxes. Let Duclos 
 take care of them." 
 
 Then a new idea suddenly coming into his vivacious 
 brain, he continues : ' ' There is only one woman to whom 
 I would like to teach my art, and she is beyond me ! She 
 has such beaut/ de diable ! such grasp of emotion such 
 intelligence and finesse such a concentrated infernal 
 topsy turvy erratic nature, that she would make the 
 greatest actress in France ! Duclos would be a comedienne 
 to her in tragedy, and poor Desmares would be a trag- 
 edienne to her in comedy if I could get her on the stage 
 but that is impossible ! At present she is a relegieuse! 
 She walks the boards of a convent. They mean her for 
 greater things."
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 109 
 
 "Greater things ! what can be grander than the tri- 
 umphs of the stage ? " 
 
 "The triumphs of the court! She is destined for 
 great things, when certain little things happen!" an- 
 swers Poisson, whose tongue is beginning to babble 
 under the influence of the wine of Italy. 
 
 By this time the two are quite alone, as most of the 
 patrons of the cafe have gone back to the theatre, in 
 their company Baron, Cousin Charlie and De Suboise, 
 who want to have a glance at beautiful Mademoiselle 
 Seine, especially Suboise, whom Baron has promised to 
 present to her. 
 
 "Let's have another flask of Chianti!" suggests 
 Raymond. 
 
 And Quasimodo bringing it, the two continue their 
 conversation, D'Arnac leading up to his subject by 
 giving a little account of the desperate dicing and card 
 playing that took place in Rastadt between the officers 
 of the French and the German armies. 
 
 " Twenty thousand livres on a card ! Did Monsieur de 
 Sartimes think that a big bet ? " jeers the comedian. 
 
 " It is among gentlemen of the sword, but perhaps it 
 is not among fermiers gcneraux ! " returns Raymond. 
 
 "Fermiers generaux a la diable /" cries Poisson. "I 
 have seen my friend Jean Lass risk one hundred thousand 
 on the turn of a card, or the throw of a die, and think 
 no more of it than you do of spiting a German! " 
 
 "There is another friend of yours, I believe, who is 
 a great gambler a John Lauriston," queries Raymond, 
 trying to hit the nail on the head. 
 
 "John Lauriston! " says the old comedian. "John 
 Lauriston ! " Then his eyes suddenly have a perturbed, 
 perhaps frightened look, and he mutters: " I do not 
 think I have heard the name, though my memory is 
 sometimes treacherous." 
 
 " He had his letters addressed to you in Paris, a year 
 ago ! You remember him tall well-formed gray eyes ! " 
 
 " Had his letters in my care ? " 
 
 " Yes, Rue Dauphin ! " 
 
 " I I have a great many pupils at my school. He 
 may have been the father of of one of them ! " stammers 
 the old gentleman. " I I will look over my books. 
 Perhaps the name is on them."
 
 110 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "Very well! I will call on you to-morrow!" says 
 D'Arnac, who is determined to see No. 17 Rue Dauphin, 
 and find out what he can discover with his own eyes, 
 for somehow the sudden change in the bearing of the 
 gentleman he is addressing produces a suspicion that 
 Monsieur Poisson's memory is not as bad as he would 
 have Raymond believe it. 
 
 A moment after the comedian rises. Apparently 
 anxious, for some reason, to end the conversation, he 
 says: "You will excuse me now, Monsieur le Comte! 
 I have to go on the stage. One of my sons appears this 
 evening, and it is necessary for me to speak to him! " 
 
 "What! Arnoul, the ugly one ? " laughs Raymond. 
 
 " No, I shall not let him appear until I have taken 
 my leave of the stage. I still wish to be considered the 
 ugliest actor in France! " chuckles Poisson. 
 
 " Very well," replies D'Arnac, " to-morrow morning 
 Rue Dauphin ! " 
 
 " Yes, if you wish it; though perhaps you had better 
 call a a few days later. It may take me some time to 
 look over my books." 
 
 " I will take my chances of that, and I hope to have 
 the pleasure of calling on you often," returns Raymond, 
 diplomatically, as the old gentleman, with a profound 
 bow and somewhat disturbed countenance, takes his 
 leave. 
 
 The next morning one o'clock in the day finds 
 D'Arnac at the house of the comedian, who laughingly 
 remarks: "You come too late to see my pupils. They 
 have finished and gone away." 
 
 "Then I hope you have had time to examine your 
 books, and see if you have discovered the name of John 
 Lauriston. He did not have a niece he wished to put on 
 the stage ? " suggests Raymond, making a wild shot. 
 
 It is a shot which apparently tells in some hidden way, 
 for Paul Poisson's eyes roll about in a wild and disturbed 
 manner as he receives it. 
 
 A second after his mobile features become calm, as 
 he says: "Yes, I have discovered the name, and I 
 believe the gentleman did have a niece. He spoke to 
 me about her. That is the way I knew him. He had 
 a desire to put his niece upon the stage, but it came to 
 nothing."
 
 \ PRINCESS OK PARIS. Ill 
 
 "Why ?" 
 
 "Well, as I recall the facts now, Lauriston received 
 an. order from Monsieur d'Argenson " 
 
 "What, the Lieutenant of Police ?" 
 
 "Yes to leave France." 
 
 "You astound me ! Why ? " 
 
 " Because, I have been informed, Monsieur Lauriston 
 was too great a gambler ! " 
 
 "As great a one as Monsieur Lass ? " 
 
 "About the same,'' returns Poisson, struggling to 
 fight down a hideous grin. 
 
 "So he is not in Paris ? " 
 
 "No; I believe he went to Venice or Bologna 
 somewhere in Italy." 
 
 " And took his niece with him ? " 
 
 " I imagine so. I do not think she would have made 
 a success on the stage. She was a poor, skinny, washed- 
 out kind of a girl ! " adds Poisson easily and affably. 
 
 Either this description or O'Brien Dillon's miniature 
 is a lie, but Raymond, turning the matter suddenly in 
 his brain, thinks it is best to say no more. At all 
 events, if Dillon's " Uncle Johnny ' has been ordered 
 out of France, that would indicate no great political 
 influence, and no high rank in life. 
 
 So departing on his way, he hunts up several of his 
 old friends in Paris, and making cautious inquiries, 
 discovers that no one has ever seen John Lauriston 
 in Paris. That no gentleman of that name has ever 
 been heard of at the great gambling salon in the Foire de 
 Saint Germain. Consequently this must be another 
 fib de theatre of Monsieur Poisson. 
 
 Filled with this information, Raymond turns to the 
 Rue St. Honor^ to seek counsel with his sister, and 
 telling his story, interests her to such an extent that she 
 says: "There is something that we cannot under- 
 stand here!" 
 
 "Would you like to help me solve the enigma ? " 
 
 "With alia woman's inquisitive soul!" cries Madame 
 la Marquise. 
 
 "Very well! What does your bright brain slight '" 
 
 "Make sure if Lauriston has been ordered out of 
 Paris." 
 
 "How?"
 
 112 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "Monsieur d'Argenson is under obligations to my 
 husband. Though he is the head of all the police of 
 Paris, and people tremble at his name, and his spies are 
 everywhere, still I think he will do me a slight favor. 
 A* letter of introduction to him from me, and he will 
 probably answer your question as to whether he ever 
 ordered a Monsieur Lauriston out of France ! " 
 
 Ten minutes afterwards D'Arnac drives hurriedly to 
 the He de la Cite, and going to the Bureau de Surete, is 
 affably received by D'Argenson, who, as chief of the police 
 of Louis the XIV , holds in his hands the city of Paris. 
 
 On Raymond asking his questions, Monsieur le Lieu- 
 tenant replies: "There never has been a Lauriston 
 in Paris, as far as I know, consequently I have never 
 ordered him out of it." 
 
 Then summoning one of his assistants, he says: 
 " Have you ever heard the name ? " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur d'Argenson." 
 
 "Where ?" 
 
 " It was on several letters addressed to the care of 
 Monsieur Poisson, Rue Dauphin; but I have never seen 
 the man." 
 
 "You see?" D'Argenson remarks as his assistant 
 goes out. 
 
 Then turning to Raymond, he says: " I would like 
 to do you any favor in my power. Monsieur le Comte, 
 both for your sister's sake and for the sake of your 
 dead father, who some fifteen years ago, long before I 
 obtained my present rank, was kind to me. This man, 
 Lauriston, has not been ordered out of Paris. The 
 only great gambler to whom I ever sent a polite request 
 to depart from France was Monsieur Jean Lass. He 
 was also a friend of the comedian, Poisson ; but that is 
 not curious, as Poisson is intimate with all great gam- 
 blers. Lass' greatest friend among the profession, how- 
 ever, was Madame Duclos, the celebrated tragedienne. 
 But I did not give his congt to Monsieur Lass on 
 account of his gambling, but on account of other things, 
 in which I would not advise you to interest yourself, 
 my young friend."" 
 
 So Raymond, coming out from this interview, con- 
 cludes that Dillon/s Uncle Johnny and his niece are 
 beyond his finding.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 113 
 
 Returning with this news to the Rue St. Honore", he 
 receives a tremendous shock. 
 
 He is met almost at the door of the salon by Mimi. 
 Her dark eyes are flashing with excitement, and very 
 wide open with astonishment; but her brother's become 
 even more excited and more wide open, as she says to 
 him: "I have found her! " 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Madame O'Brien Dillon! " 
 
 " Sapristi! Where?" 
 
 "At the convent Des Capucines where I went to 
 visit little Jeanne. I thought the child might be lonely. 
 The lady you seek is there as one of the pupils! " 
 
 "And beautiful?" 
 
 "As beautiful more beautiful than the miniature!" 
 
 "You have made some inquiries about her ?" 
 
 "Yes, she was placed there as the ward of Poisson, 
 the comedian! " 
 
 " Poisson, the comedian Poisson, the LIAR! " shrieks 
 D'Arnac. Then he chuckles to himself: "We must 
 outwit this farceur of the Comedie Fran$aise. Will you 
 help me, Mimi ? " 
 
 "With all my heart," returns La Marquise with 
 excited face and beaming eyes. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE LIEUTENANT OF POLICE. 
 
 " You made these inquiries you learned this from 
 Madame O'Brien Dillon personally ? " asks Raymond, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Partly! Of course I had entrt to the convent 
 when you were not with me. I was shown into the 
 private parlor. There Jeanne came to me and was 
 delighted to see me. We're going to be very great 
 friends. She has wonderful esprit. She said she would 
 like the place very much for a year or two, because a 
 great artiste should have a grand education." 
 
 "But the other one ? " questions D'Arnac, biting his 
 moustache with impatience.
 
 114 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " Oh, I'm coming to her! In her remarks about the 
 school, Mademoiselle Jeanne expatiated upon the beauty 
 of one of the scholars. 
 
 " ' In your class ? ' I asked, carelessly. 
 
 " ' Oh, no! she's .by herself! She is much older than 
 I almost nineteen or twenty! But she has the beauty 
 of an angel and a fascination au diable. Sometimes 
 more of the first, sometimes more of the second,' 
 remarked the little Quinault, whose theatrical experi- 
 ence," continues Madame la Marquise, with a slight 
 laugh, " has given her a most precocious understanding 
 of human nature. Well, Jeanne went on , with almost 
 childish pertinacity, about the wonderful loveliness of 
 the girl, and as she described her, somehow the miniature 
 of yesterday came into my mind. La Quinault's descrip- 
 tion recalled it. 
 
 " ' Nonsense!' said I, 'you're extravagant,' for her 
 persistency wearied me. 
 
 "'Extravagant! Look at her, and say I exaggerate! 
 Out in the garden. She's there now!' cried Jeanne, 
 and pulled me towards the window, and under the 
 budding trees I saw Madame O'Brien Dillon! 
 
 "'Ah! who's extravagant now!' said little Jeanne, 
 for I had given a gasp of surprise at the discovery and 
 a gasp of astonishment at the beauty of the girl herself, 
 which is greater than her miniature. Even her 
 uniform, for she was in full convent school girl's dress, 
 could not modify it; in fact,'' continues Mimi, with 
 a laughing blush, " it rather added to it, for very short 
 skirts revealed feet and ankles adorable." 
 
 " You spoke to her,' 1 asks Raymond, eagerly. 
 
 "Yes, a few words, but very guardedly. To do this 
 I amused myself with Jeanne and then proposed a walk 
 in the garden. Here 1 met the ) oung lady herself, and 
 Jeanne cried out in her impulsive way: 'Come here 
 and make your courtesy to Madame la Marquise de 
 Chateaubrien. I told her you were the beauty of the 
 school. Come here and live up to your reputation.' 
 
 "At this, Madame O'Brien Dillon, giving me a rather 
 haughty salutation, said: ' I come to you, Madame la 
 Marquise, to show you little Mademoiselle Jeanne some- 
 times tells fibs.' 
 
 " 'Not this time, Hilda 1 ' answered La Quinault."
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 115 
 
 " Hilda is the name! " cries D'Arnac. 
 
 " Yes, but her other one is not ' Van Hoist ? ' " 
 
 "Ah! it is 'Dillon!" 
 
 " Not now! She calls herself ' Poisson! ' ' 
 
 " Poisson ? " 
 
 "She was left there by the comedian as his niece and 
 ward nearly two weeks ago," answers La Marquise. 
 
 "The niece of Lauriston, the niece of Poisson, and 
 still Madame O'Brien Dillon. There's more mystery 
 here than ever." 
 
 "Lots more," cries Mimi, "I've some now on my 
 lips if you don't interrupt me. 
 
 "On coming away, as I was bidding adieu to the 
 mother superior, I incidentally mentioned the wondrous 
 beauty of her charge. 
 
 " ' Yes, too beautiful! ' she replied. Then the good 
 woman whispered quite tremblingly to me : ' She has 
 been here but two weeks, and already an attempt has 
 been made to carry her off. If it had succeeded, what 
 a scandal on Des Capucines! ' 
 
 " ' Ah, she does not wish to remain with you 
 Mademoiselle is naughty and would run away,' sneered 
 I, to draw her on. 
 
 " 'No, I don't think she knows of the attempt at 
 all,' replied the mother superior. Then, after a 
 moment's hesitation, she continued: 'Madame la 
 Marquise, you are a woman of the world. Your 
 husband is my patron. May I ask your advice upon 
 this matter ? ' 
 
 " 'Certainly,' said I, trying to restrain my eagerness. 
 
 "'It only happened yesterday afternoon. You 
 remember, just as you left, a carriage drove up to our 
 door.' 
 
 " ' Oh, yes ; the one with the arms and liveries of the 
 Prince de Conti,' I remarked. 
 
 " 'Ah! that is what nearly deceived me,' cried la 
 Superieure. ' A gentleman coming in that carriage 
 presented me with a note, apparently written by 
 Monsieur Poisson of the Francais, who is the girl's 
 uncle and guardian. It directed me to deliver the 
 young lady to him, as Monsieur Poisson had determined 
 to place her in another convent. This seemed to me 
 quite natural, as her guardian had said she would not
 
 Il6 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 probably remain long at Des Capucines. I was about 
 to deliver her up, when suddenly, to my astonishment, 
 in walked Monsieur Poisson himself. He had come 
 accidentally to see his charge. As he entered, the 
 gentleman (for his bearing was that of a courtier) 
 muttered some excuse about going to arrange the coach 
 for the young lady, pulled his hat over his eyes and 
 went hurriedly out. 
 
 "'You have come to get your ward in person?' 
 said I. 
 
 ' ' ' No ; only to speak to her, and to leave her a basket 
 of bonbons and fruits, with your permission,' replied 
 the actor. 
 
 " ' Then, what means this note ?' I gasped hurriedly, 
 handing it to him. 
 
 " ' He glanced at it, shrieked " Forgery! " and was so 
 overcome that he sank on a chair trembling, muttering: 
 ' If he had succeeded, what Would I have said to the 
 Prince ? ' 
 
 " 'I stepped hurriedly to the window to recall the 
 man who had delivered the letter, but he was driving 
 away like the wind, in the carriage that bore the Conti 
 arms. 
 
 " ' So you think the Prince de Conti tried to abduct 
 your charge ? ' suggested I. 
 
 "'Certainly not!' said the mother superior, excit- 
 edly. ' It was the Prince de Conti's recommendation 
 that made me take the young lady into our convent. 
 Monsieur Poisson said he used the Conti arms on his 
 carriage as part of his plot. Oh ! I fear there is some 
 extraordinary intrigue something perhaps political; 
 something that may bring trouble upon Des Capucines. 
 If I had known I would never have accepted her care 
 -not even if all the princes in France asked it.' 
 
 "So the Prince de Conti requested them to take 
 charge of her!" says Raymond, as his sister stops. 
 "Then O'Brien may be right; she may be a princess 
 of the blood. " 
 
 " Nonsense, it is her beauty, not her rank, that 
 makes Madame O'Brien Dillon important," rejoins 
 Mimi. A moment after she cries: "How I would 
 like to guess the mystery who is trying to abduct 
 her ? "
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 1 17 
 
 " That you shall do very shortly, with my assistance," 
 remarks D'Arnac, in the superb confidence of youth- 
 ful manhood. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Arrange an interview for me with Madame O'Brien 
 Dillon. You can see her again to-day ? " 
 
 "Yes, I left some unfinished directions to la petite 
 Quinault to give me an excuse to return to Des Capu- 
 cifies," answers La Marquise. Then she says suddenly: 
 "What can she tell you? The beauty inside the 
 convent doesn't seem to know of these men's plots 
 outside it." 
 
 "That information I shall get from another quarter," 
 laughs Raymond, very wise and deep about the eyes. 
 
 "Ah! How?" 
 
 "From Monsieur le Procureur ! " 
 
 "Brava! " 
 
 " I'll go to Cousin Charlie. Who can tell me better 
 about a court intrigue ? Who knows more about the 
 gossip of Paris? Who is deeper in the law? Who 
 can better advise me how to protect my friend, O'Brien 
 Dillon's wife, than Cousin Charlie ? " 
 
 "Bright boy!" exclaims Mimi. "While you go to 
 Cousin Charlie, I'll do Madame Dillon." 
 
 Leaving his sister, Raymond hurriedly crosses the 
 Pont Neuf to the lie de la Cite, and in a few minutes 
 is on the Quai de 1'Horloge. Entering the Palais de 
 Justice he soon finds himself at the offices of the 
 Procureur du Roy, and shortly after is shown into the 
 private apartment of De Moncrief. 
 
 "A visit to my office? Raymond, my boy, that 
 must mean business!" says Cousin Charlie, motioning 
 D'Arnac to a seat. 
 
 "Yes. Important business! " 
 
 "Your own ? " 
 
 "That of a friend a brother in arms Colour! 
 O'Brien Dillon, who saved my life at Friburg! Whose 
 business I will make my own." 
 
 "Oh, the wild Irishman! He's off fighting the 
 Turks, isn't he ?" 
 
 "Yes, but he has a wife here." 
 
 " Diable ! a pretty one ? " 
 
 "Very beautiful 1 though I have never seen her!
 
 Il8 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " But want to. Where is she ? " 
 
 "She is a school-girl in the convent Des Capucines, 
 Rue Louis le Grand!" 
 
 "A school-girl the wife of Colonel O'Brien Dillon ? 
 and most beautiful! This sounds interesting!" 
 chuckles the Procureur, and would give the young man 
 a sly nudge, did not Raymond's severe manner check 
 such youthful indiscretions on the part of the aged 
 lawyer. 
 
 "Well, what do you want to do for him, or his 
 wife ? " 
 
 Thus requested, Raymond commences to hint and 
 beat about the bush, telling of his interview with Pois- 
 son, the comedian. But in the midst of this the lawyer 
 stops him by saying: "Enough! I won't take your 
 case! I won't give you my advice! " 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because you are not telling me all! Now, if you 
 wish my counsel as your cousin, tell me what you 
 please. If you wish my counsel both as your cousin 
 and as your lawyer, tell me EVERYTHING ! Which do you 
 want ?" 
 
 "Both." 
 
 "Then the entire story." 
 
 Thus compelled, Raymond gives a complete history 
 of Colonel O'Brien Dillon, from the time he had met 
 him up to the present moment. 
 
 As it goes on the look of pleasant interrogation on 
 the lawyer's face changes gradually into that of most 
 intense and personal interest. As his cousin reaches 
 the description of Madame O'Brien Dillon and the 
 attempt to abduct her by an individual in the liveries 
 of the Prince de Conti, De Moncrief's concern becomes 
 so dominant that he hardly breathes. And as Raymond 
 concludes, a sigh of rapturous delight floats from his 
 thin lips as he murmurs: "Is that all ? " 
 
 " Everything. Now what do you advise ? " 
 
 After a moment's contemplation, Cousin Charlie 
 promptly gives council that he knows will not be 
 accepted. He says: "If I gave you the advice of a 
 lawyer I should say, ' Do nothing about it. You may 
 burn your fingers pulling your friend's chestnuts out of 
 the fire.'"
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. Iig 
 
 "But that is not what O'Brien would do for me!" 
 cries D'Arnac, impetuously. 
 
 "No? I suppose he is hot-blooded like yourself, 
 and would protect the Countess d'Arnac (if you were 
 foolish enough to have one) with his life, his sword, and 
 his honor! " 
 
 "And I will do the same by him! " 
 
 "Then you want my advice as your friend?" says 
 Cousin Charlie, looking very curiously at Raymond 
 over his eye-glasses. 
 
 "Yes, as my cousin and one of my family, and as 
 a man of honor ! " 
 
 " Very well. Here it is: I would protect Madame 
 O'Brien Dillon by every means in my power. Then I 
 would, if possible forward her to Vienna. My purse is 
 at your service for that purpose." 
 
 " I do not need that, but your counsel will be very 
 valuable to me." 
 
 "Very well. The first thing you must do is to 
 protect this beauty from any further attempts at abduc- 
 tion by force or artifice. Monsieur d'Argenson, the 
 Chief of Police, will attend to that for you." 
 
 "You would go to him?" 
 
 "At once! and tell him your story in full. It is but a 
 step to the Bureau de Surete. After your interview with 
 D'Argenson, return to me, and tell me what he says!" 
 
 "Immediately!" replies D'Arnac, and bolts from 
 the office, as the Procureur du Roy, emitting a hoarse 
 chuckle, sits hurriedly at his desk and writes a little 
 note. Then calling in an attendant, he says: "Take 
 this in person to Monsieur d'Argenson." 
 
 " And leave it ? " asks the clerk. 
 
 "No! In all probability my cousin,* the Comte 
 d'Arnac, is at present with him. You saw him; the 
 young officer who just left me ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Go to the Office of Police and wait until you see 
 Monsieur d'Arnac ushered into the private apartment 
 of the Lieutenant. Wait then five no ten minutes 
 and then say you must see Monsieur d'Argenson at 
 once! . No matter what they say to you, insist, and 
 interrupt the interview! Give D'Argenson this letter in 
 person, and then return to me! Remember that the
 
 120 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 time of the delivery of the letter, ten minutes after my 
 cousin has been closeted with him, is of vital impor- 
 tance ! " 
 
 "Yes, sir; ten minutes after the Comte d' Arnac goes 
 into the Lieutenant of Police's private office! " and the 
 assistant, who understands Monsieur le Procureur's 
 methods of business very well, departs upon his errand. 
 
 Meantime Raymond has bolted to the Bureau de 
 Surete, and astonished Monsieur d'Argenson by being 
 announced a second time. 
 
 Curiosity obtains him an immediate interview, for the 
 Lieutenant mutters "Parbleu! Twice in one day! 
 There must be some new developments! " and bids his 
 attendant show Monsieur d'Arnac in at once. 
 
 Here Raymond hurriedly tells of what he has discov- 
 ered in regard to the niece of Lauriston, and the attempt 
 that had been made to abduct her but yesterday, and 
 astonishes Monsieur d'Argenson. 
 
 Then the Lieutenant of Police makes reply, and aston- 
 ishes his visitor still more. 
 
 He says, shortly: "You are not speaking of the 
 niece of John Lauriston, but of Monsieur Jean Lass, 
 called in his own country, Law!" 
 
 " You astound me ! Is it possible ?" 
 
 "It is certainty! Monsieur Law called here in 
 Paris, Lass sometimes travels, on his gambling expe- 
 ditions through Europe, under assumed names. What 
 more natural than that he should take the name of his 
 estate, Lauriston, in Scotland ? Besides, Ihave known 
 of this affair you speak of for some time. Not that the 
 lady was married to your friend, the Irish officer, and 
 that her real name is Madame O'Brien Dillon but 
 other things about her. I am delighted to have the 
 opportunity of stopping this intrigue now. I will give 
 you my assistance. The whole power of the police of 
 Paris is yours to take this lady who has kept me awake 
 at nights, from the convent, and send her to her 
 husband in Vienna, where I wish him joy of her." 
 
 Astonished and delighted, D'Arnac is about to thank 
 the policeman. But D'Argenson goes hurriedly on: 
 " You're under no obligation to me in this rnatter. 
 It's what I've wanted to do ever since I gave his congt 
 to Monsieur Lass."
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 121 
 
 "Then I can rely on your stopping all attempts at 
 abducting her ? " 
 
 " More! I know who is the instigator of them, and if 
 necessary I will report his conduct to the King. Then 
 we will see if Philippe Due " checking himself "we 
 will see if the party in question dare raise a hand, high 
 though he is, against the command of his sovereign ! " 
 
 As the Chief of Police says these last words, there is 
 a hurried rap on the door. 
 
 " I must not be interrupted now! " he calls out. 
 
 "It's a letter," answers one of his clerks, "one of 
 imperative importance, I am told, from the Procureur 
 du Roy!" 
 
 "Give it to me I'll glance at it! "' says D'Argenson 
 suddenly. " Excuse me a moment, then I will arrange 
 the details of my assistance with you, Monsieur 
 d'Arnac. " 
 
 With these words the Lieutenant of Police breaks 
 open the letter of Monsieur de Moncrief, and as his 
 eyes run over it, says: " Pish! it's but official routine! " 
 
 But towards the close of the letter his features become 
 contracted, as if in deep thought, his face grows pale, 
 and crumpling the missive in his hand, he shoves it 
 angrily into his pocket. 
 
 Then his manner suddenly changes. He turns to 
 D'Arnac and astounds him with these words: "On 
 further consideration I deem it best to leave this matter 
 of Madame O'Brien Dillon entirely alone, and let it take 
 its natural course! " 
 
 " You will not aid me ? " 
 
 The Lieutenant hesitates a moment, then says 
 sharply: " It's impossible! I cannot!" 
 
 " You cannot ? " 
 
 " To be very frank with you," returns the Lieutenant, 
 noting the distress in the young man's face, " I dare 
 not! " 
 
 "Something in my cousin's letter has deterred you ? " 
 
 " Not at all. His note was simply routine business. 
 But I have made up my mind. " Then D'Argenson goes 
 on more cordially: "My young friend, take my advice! 
 Let the matter severely entirely alone! You do not 
 know what you may encounter in protecting the wife of 
 your friend."
 
 122 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " But I shall attempt it, even if Monsieur le Lieutenant 
 de Police does not dare it!" replies D'Arnac with a 
 ceremonious yet haughty bow, and leaves the office of 
 the Chief of Police, while that official looks after him, 
 muttering to himself: " Pardieu! I wish him joy of his 
 bargain ! " 
 
 A second later a little official shiver runs through him 
 as he thinks, "How near I came to putting my foot in it! " 
 
 But Raymond does not entirely believe the statement 
 of Monsieur d'Argenson, that the letter of his. cousin 
 had not altered his determination, and he bursts quite 
 indignantly into Cousin Charlie's private office, crying: 
 "I would have had his assistance had it not been for 
 your infernal note.-" 
 
 " Oh, the one I sent to the Lieutenant of Police during 
 your interview ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Did it prevent his making a move in the matter ? " 
 
 "It did !" 
 
 "But it also showed me that you should make no 
 move in the matter, because now I know who is trying 
 to abduct Madame O Brien Dillon ! " 
 
 "Sapristi! Who?" 
 
 "Monsieur le Due d Orleans, who will very shortly, 
 unless the stars fall, become Regent of France ! " This 
 last is whispered into D'Arnac's astonished ear. 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 " I discovered it from your interview with Monsieur 
 d'Argenson ! " remarks Cousin Charlie, smiling, and 
 happy as a child that has solved the secret of a new 
 riddle. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " You told Monsieur d'Argenson your story ? " 
 
 "Yes !" 
 
 " He agreed to aid you ? " 
 
 "Most cordially ! He said he would go, if necessary, 
 to the King." 
 
 "Then my note came, and he suddenly said he would 
 have nothing to do with the matter ? " returns De 
 Moncrief, with a chuckle. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, what did my note contain? Simply this: a 
 statement of various official data that it is necessary for
 
 A PRINCESS OF I'ARIS. 123 
 
 me as Procureur du Roy to render to D'Argenson as 
 Lieutenant de Police. But at the close I added two 
 lines: ' By-the-bye, have you heard that His Majesty 
 had yesterday another attack of his_ stomach trouble, 
 and is at present very low at Versailles ? ' Then 
 Monsieur d'Argenson said he would not aid you ! Why ? 
 Because he feared there would soon be a Regent in 
 France, during the minority of the young King, and 
 that Regent Philippe d'Orleans, who has seen Madame 
 O'Brien Dillon and fallen so deeply in love with her that 
 he would even risk the King's displeasure to gain her for 
 himself. You know Monsieur loves every pretty woman. 
 Think how he must love one as beautiful as the minia- 
 ture you showed me when you told me the story of 
 Madame O'Brien Dillon ! " 
 
 "Well, what do you advise under these circum- 
 stances ? " asks Raymond. 
 
 " There is but one chance for your friend ! That is 
 to get his wife out of France immediately. Certainly 
 before the Duke becomes the Regent, and all power- 
 ful ! " 
 
 "That I shall attempt at once ? " replies Raymond. 
 " Thank you for your advice ! " 
 
 "But be wise, my boy ! You're running against 
 another bastion, mined like that of Friburg. " 
 
 ."Yes; but O'Brien Dillon did not hesitate to enter it 
 to save my life shall I hesitate now to save his honor ? " 
 cries Raymond, the enthusiasm of twenty blazing in 
 his eyes, and giving intensity to his voice. 
 
 "Then God be with you ! " remarks Cousin Charlie, 
 as D'Arnac, wringing his hand, leaves the office. 
 
 His eyes watch the retreating figure of the young 
 man, and as Raymond disappears, De Moncrief, clos- 
 ing the door of his office, bursts into such chuckles of 
 joy and merriment that old Satan, down below, snickers 
 to his imps: "Has our old friend the Procureur up 
 stairs got a new ballet girl or a new villainy ? " 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE PIE OF THE PRIM I HI > "NTI. 
 
 A FEW MOMENTS devoted to joy and De Moncrief 
 comes to business. He thinks: "Now I can get my
 
 124 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 finger in this great pie that is to be cooked on the death 
 of his Majesty. Now the estates of Count de Crevecoeur 
 will surely be mine, because my cousin, who would 
 inherit them before me, will certainly pass away !" 
 
 But a second after he mutters : "I must be moving ! 
 Strike while the iron is very hot, and this one is 'in the 
 forge now ! " 
 
 And leaving his office takes carriage, for he fears his 
 shrivelled legs will not carry him fast enough, to the 
 Hotel de Conti, the palace of that Cadet branch of 
 the house of Conde Bourbon the youngest, yet the 
 haughtiest of the family of France. 
 
 Arriving there, he begs the gentleman in waiting will 
 take his name to Monsieur le Prince and tell him Charles 
 de Moncrief, his humble servant, must see him on a 
 matter of most immediate and urgent business. 
 
 A few minutes after he is shown in to the private 
 apartments of the head of the younger family of the 
 house of Bourbon. These are situated in a pavilion 
 that occupies a portion of the court yard of the great 
 house and are arranged in the Italian style as the 
 Prince likes that country and spends a great portion of 
 his winters in Venice, Florence and Rome. They are 
 filled with furniture bought at great price from the 
 Palazzos of Italian noblemen and have been frescoed 
 and adorned by artists imported fiom that country. 
 Every fitting of these rooms indicates a lavish prodi- 
 gality in money matters so great that the house of 
 Conti was regarded as very bad pay by the usurers of 
 Paris. 
 
 As the Procureur enters, Louis de Conti, rising from 
 a chair, says in the easy way of the most affable, yet 
 the most villainous, most unprincipled, most scala- 
 waggy Prince of those most scalawaggy times: "Take 
 a chair with me, Moncrief. I have shoved the Burgundy 
 your way, and will you join me in a pipe ?" For tobacco 
 was at that moment the newest fad in Paris. 
 
 " No! Perhaps you would prefer snuff ? " And this 
 affable yet haughty prince passes his snuff-box embossed 
 with jewels that form his crest, towards Cousin Charlie, 
 who pounces upon it and enjoys it. 
 
 "Now between sneezes," laughs Louis de Conti, 
 " tell me why you must see me at once ! "
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 125 
 
 "Why ? " says the lawyer, " because if we don't act 
 on the instant, the great scheme of your life the one 
 you've been working on for the last year the one you 
 think of at night the one you dream of by day will 
 be smashed into ten thousand pieces, and we will not 
 be able to pick up one of them! " 
 
 "WE? \Vhat dream of my life ? What scheme that 
 I have been working on for a year ? Do you mean my 
 new device to pay my debts with nothing ? " laughs De 
 Conti, though his eyes are serious, almost menacing. 
 
 "Yes, for your great scheme includes that lesser 
 "one." 
 
 "What do you mean ? " 
 
 "I mean," says Cousin Charlie, though his legs 
 tremble under him at his audacity, " the scheme you 
 have with Monsieur Jean Lass, financier and gambler, 
 on the death of one to whom we doff our hats and bow 
 our knee, when the Due d' Orleans becomes Regent, to 
 obtain from him, first the charter ot your National Bank, 
 next the revenue of the French Colonies ultimately the 
 control of the finances of France ! " 
 
 "You must be mad!" gasps De Conti. Then he 
 grins hideously and says: "Charles de Moncrief, the 
 words you have used are petty treason ! " 
 
 "But you will not report them ?" whispers Cousin 
 Charlie, agitated but determined. 
 
 "Why not ?" 
 
 "Because I will show you that it is to your interest 
 to make me a member of your combination that it is 
 fatal to you not to do so! " 
 
 " Morbleu ! you are out of your senses! The lunatic 
 asylum, not the prison, will be the proper place for 
 you ! " blusters De Conti. 
 
 " Yes, but these will be my ravings": cries de Mon- 
 crief. " De Conti being for a Prince of France most 
 infernally hard up, and Jean Lass, the greatest gambler 
 on earth being most ambitious, the two have thought to 
 get a great concession from Monsieur le Due d'Orleans, 
 when he becomes the Regent. That is, the concession 
 of a bank, next of a great commercial company, and per- 
 haps ultimately control of the collection of taxes for 
 France itself. These concessions they expect to win, 
 first by the great friendship of the Duke for the Prince de
 
 126 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 Conti, and his belief in the financial abilities of Jean 
 Lass; next,and most potent, by Philippe d'Orleans' love 
 for the mistress of Jean Lass, whom the Regent has 
 seen twice, and whose beauty has ensnared him as no 
 other, woman's has ever done, because it is beyond com- 
 pare. That when they saw D'Orleans' passion for her 
 had become such that they knew he would grant them 
 all privileges to obtain her, that they had removed her 
 secretly, and by aid of the comedian Poisson, entered 
 her as his ward in the convent Des Capucines. Just as 
 this took 'place, D'Argenson, Chief of Police, suddenly 
 ordered Jean Lass out of France, on the pretext of" 
 gambling, but really to stop their scheme. Therefore, 
 they expect to hold this paragon of beauty, who is 
 herself willing, having tremendous ambitions, to wait a 
 few months until the proper time comes, to become per- 
 chance a second Madame de Maintenon. Thus holding 
 the meat, as it were, beyond the reach of the dog to 
 make him lick his royal chops the more. 
 
 " Now bring in your keepers and I'll begin to rave! " 
 concludes the Procureur, smiling at De Conti, who dur- 
 ing the last part of this oration has been going about 
 eagerly from doors to windows to see that none of his 
 maids or flunkeys have been listening, and who now 
 regards De Moncrief with a hang-dog, half frightened, 
 half surly air. 
 
 A moment later the Prince, attempting a laugh, says: 
 "Have you any more ravings, my wise lunatic?" 
 
 "This one, that this fine plan has suddenly been 
 stopped by the Duke discovering the whereabouts of 
 the woman he adores, and his attempt to abduct her 
 yesterday, from the convent Des Capucines, Rue Louis 
 le Grand!" whispers De Moncrief. 
 
 " Discovered her! Abducted her! " shrieks De Conti. 
 " By Heaven, that cursed comedian shall answer to me 
 with his miserable soul ! " 
 
 "Oh ho! the lunatic's ravings were right! " chuckles 
 Cousin Charlie. "But I said 'had discovered her ' not 
 ' had abducted ' her. Furthermore, I can tell you how 
 he shall never abduct her!" 
 
 "What do you want for this assistance and this 
 advice ? " cautiously remarks De Conti, who knows 
 De Moncrief is a wary bird.
 
 A 1'RIXi ESS '(- PARIS. 127 
 
 "Just my chance to put my own hands into the pie, 
 when it is cooked nothing down and NOTHING ELSE ! " 
 remarks l)e Moncrief. 
 
 "Very well! Then assist in this pie's baking! " 
 
 " Won't I ? " cries Cousin Charlie. With this he sits 
 down and tells the Prince the whole story of D'Arnac 
 and of the Irish Colonel, who is fighting the Turks, and 
 who is married to the beautiful object of their specula- 
 tion, and concluding, says: "My cousin will attempt to 
 remove our prize from the convent. We must do so 
 first, and send her to Italy to Monsieur Lass, before 
 D'Orleans makes another attempt, or becomes Regent." 
 
 "But if your cousin should interfere? I've heard 
 D'Arnac's a dashing fellow and has a ready sword! " 
 
 " Then my cousin must take his chances as any other 
 ENEMY ! " 
 
 " Ah, you do not object to treating him as if he were 
 an outsider ? " 
 
 "No, I sacrifice my cousin up to your plans, very 
 willingly," laughs De Moncrief. 
 
 "Oh, yes, he has estates, I presume." 
 
 "Yes, and will have more handsome ones if he lives. 
 I make this confession, " remarks Charlie, " to show you 
 I am bound to you as well as you to me." 
 
 "Very well, my old fox! " replies De Conti. " But 
 how did you discover al! this you have told me ? " 
 
 " By mathematics ? " 
 
 4 4 Mathematics ? Morbleu ! " 
 
 "By putting two and two together, and seeing it 
 makes four. By the babbling of a drunken comedian to 
 me over his wine, a little each night, but, adding them 
 together, they made a revelation ; by the conduct of 
 Monsieur d'Argenson, the Chief of Police to-day " 
 
 " So th\ Poisson is the babbler ? " growls De Conti, 
 interrupting. 
 
 "Yes! We must take the girl out of his hands. He 
 plays the buffoon off the stage as well as on it ! ' 
 ' "She goes to Italy to-night!" answers the Prince 
 determinedly. e " That shall be my personal charge." 
 
 " It is our only safe move fron botl D'Orleans and 
 my impetuous cousin ! " 
 
 "You are sure D'Arnac acts on behalf of the Irish 
 officer? She is beautiful enough toxemia boy of his
 
 128 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 age crazy, both with love and despair!" queries De 
 Conti. 
 
 "Certain! Raymond has not even seen the beauty, 
 besides he is devotion itself to the man who saved his 
 life! " 
 
 " Sapristi ! I thought we had got rid of this wild 
 Irishman! " mutters the Prince. " Lenoir tried to put 
 him out of our way by means of military duty, but he 
 escaped the most deadly positions in battle and 
 assault; then we brought influence to bear on Prince 
 Eugene to offer him a regiment in the Imperial Army, 
 and when he accepted and went off to Vienna, we 
 thought it was an end of him; but here he is in the 
 person of your cursed cousin springing up again! " 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur Raymond intends to take Madame 
 O'Brien Dillon off to her husband in Vienna if we don't 
 move to-night! " laughs De Moncrief. 
 
 "Take her to Vienna ? Destroy the scheme of my 
 life !" screams De Conti, bubbling over with rage. Then 
 he mutters : ' ' This settles Comte d'Arnac !" and the tone 
 of his voice means death. 
 
 " By the way, would you please give me an order to 
 Des Capucines, to see our charge ? I know Poisson is 
 her guardian, but she was placed there through your 
 influence, and a note from you and my name and official 
 rank will be sufficient, " suggests Cousin Charlie. 
 
 "You want to see her ? " asks De Conti, a trace of 
 suspicion in his voice. 
 
 " Certainly! Because she is so beautiful!" returns the 
 Procureur. " Second, she may be unwilling to go to 
 Italy. I wish to ascertain that, and whether it will be 
 better for you to use diplomacy or force to induce her to 
 go there." 
 
 ' ' Yes, you're just the inquisitor to get at the innermost 
 thoughts of our fair charge ! " laughs Monsieur de Conti, 
 who sits down and writes the order. 
 
 As he finishes De Moncrief suggests to him: "Now 
 a line to the young lady just to say she can trust me." 
 
 " As you wish, " answers the Prince, "but afte,r this 
 no more notes; it's too much work to write them!" and 
 scribbles off two sentences to the girl herself. 
 
 As he receives the missive, Cousin Charlie kisses 
 the hand of his ally and takes his leave, saying: ' " I'll
 
 A PRINCKS> <>l PARIS. 129 
 
 return in an hour and tell your Highness what I dis- 
 cover." 
 
 " Adieu, old disciple of Richelieu ! " chuckles De Conti 
 after him ; then turning the affair over in his mind, he 
 concludes: "It is best to have De Moncrief, the old 
 Renard, in our affair! We need legal minds, and by all 
 the gods there is enough plunder for everybody! " 
 
 For this scheme was of such financial grandeur that 
 there was enough in it to bribe Parliament, the Regent, 
 the Court aye! even the people of France, and after- 
 wards every banker, broker, money changer and specu- 
 lator in Europe which meant, at that day, the civilized 
 world. 
 
 A second or two of glum consideration and De Conti 
 swears a great Italian oath, and mutters: " Per Bacco ! 
 this spring-gald of the camp, young D'Arnac, shall not 
 destroy the greatest project of the age ! " 
 
 With this he calls to his counsel, the gentleman who 
 heads his bullies and bravos who do the abducting, 
 assassinating, and such like duties, for this most Chris- 
 tian prince of the blood. 
 
 Departing on this errand, De Moncrief soon finds 
 himself at Des Capucines. Presenting his letter from the 
 Prince, he is very affably received by the mother superior. 
 
 "As the Procureur du ,Roy, " he remarks, blandly, 
 "I have heard of the attempted abduction of your 
 charge. I wish to ask the young lady Mademoiselle 
 Poisson a few details that may be necessary to the 
 Department of Justice in taking cognizance of the 
 affair. I would like a private interview with mademoiselle. " 
 
 "It is against the rules of our convent! " 
 
 " It is imperative for the affairs of justice! " 
 
 "Very well, then," replies the mother superior. 
 " The letter of the Prince de Conti and Monsieur's 
 high position as the Procureur du Roy and his extreme 
 age, induce me to grant his request. Please step this 
 way." 
 
 So De Moncrief follows her, wincing and snapping 
 his jaws together in rage at the thought that he is con- 
 sidered by this holy woman too old to be very dangerous. 
 
 And perhaps it is well that he is no young gallant of 
 the court, though, oh, how he wishes it ! for the beauti- 
 ful sight he sees as Hilda comes into the room would
 
 130 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 twist the heart and turn the head of any man. At all 
 events it does his. 
 
 She is in the dress of a schoolgirl, but has the 
 coquetry of a woman and a loveliness that is hardly of 
 the earth, and, over all, that wondrous art, indescrib- 
 able as electricity, ethereal as the breath about us, but 
 potent as the powers of the air fascination ! fascina- 
 tion in every gesture, fascination in every pose, 
 fascination in every glance of the eye, in every tone 
 of the voice ! 
 
 To this vision Monsieur le Procureur bows down at 
 once and worships as other men have done before and 
 other men will do again. 
 
 For a second she stands hesitating, as if half in 
 doubt as to her bearing, courtesying after the manner of 
 the school to the old and dignified gentleman who is 
 gazing at her with all his eyes. 
 
 A moment after, remembering him as one of the very 
 few gentlemen she had seen at Poisson's, for Uncle 
 Johnny had kept very close watch on his trump card 
 since she arrived in Paris, Hilda gives a little piquant 
 pout and half laughs, half sighs: " How do you like 
 my masquerade ? I am here because I'm naughty. 
 Monsieur Lass would not trust me in Italy and so 
 placed me under Monsieur Poisson, who has put me en 
 retraite." 
 
 " Pardi ! that is a little fairy tale for those who do not 
 know all ! " laughs the Procureur. 
 
 "ALL!" ejaculates the girl; then says hesitatingly, 
 but inquiringly: "You come ?" 
 
 "From the Prince de Conti, the ally of Monsieur 
 Lass in our little affair. This note will prove to you 
 that I am one of your adherents and promoters of your 
 interest." This last he adds hastily, for at his first 
 sentence Hilda's eyes have opened with astonishment 
 and flashed with sudden fright. 
 
 In a second she pounces on and devours the missive. 
 Then reads it over carefully again, aloud: 
 
 " You may trust him. He is one of us! 
 
 "DE CONTI." 
 
 "You know the Prince's signature!" says Cousin 
 Charlie, for she is gazing at him very searchingly.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 131 
 
 "Perfectly! But I don't agree with the Prince's 
 convictions? " sneers the girl. "Your face is not to be 
 trusted! " 
 
 " Not if my interests pull the same way ? " 
 
 "Ah, that is different! Explain how your interests 
 are my interests! " 
 
 "With pleasure!" says Cousin Charlie. "In ten 
 minutes I'll make you believe in me! " 
 
 And in five minutes he does so, proving to her as her 
 blue eyes glow like diamonds as they try to read his 
 soul that her elevation will make his success. 
 
 "Yes, I see I understand!" she replies, after a 
 moment's consideration. Then she whispers: "Tell 
 me what Monsieur le Prince wants me to do! " 
 
 "Certainly!" and De Moncrief does so lucidly, 
 candidly, and in full, placing the whole affair before 
 her, for he has been studying the lovely face he is look- 
 ing upon, and sees in it great ambition and great 
 passions and at present ambition dominates. Then 
 he concludes: " ff you throw yourself into D'Orleans 1 
 arms now, you only gain what he can give you NOW 
 nothing! If you wait not long till he is Regent 
 then he can give you France! " 
 
 "And how I will play with France !" whispers the 
 young lady, for the conversation is still in an under- 
 tone. 
 
 "Then I hope you will not forget old friends!" 
 murmurs Le Procureur, kissing the pretty hand that has 
 been gesticulating so gracefully before him. 
 
 "Oh, I shall never forget you. You shall always 
 have the privilege of of kissing my hand ! " says 
 Mademoiselle Hilda, with fairy archness. 
 
 "That will make me always happy!" mutters the 
 Procureur, but his wicked old eyes say more than his 
 lips. 
 
 A moment after he goes on, for all this time though 
 she bewitches him, he is trying to test her strength for 
 the grand role of high priestess in this great political 
 and financial scheme: " By-the-bye, how about your 
 acU-enture with the wild Irish officer ? " 
 
 " \Vho ? " The blue eyes open wick- and innocently. 
 
 "Colonel O'Brien Dillon! Why did you marry him?" 
 
 " Who told you that ? " gasps the girl, with a start.
 
 132 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "Oh, I know all about your adventures! " laughs De 
 Moncrief; and gives her the story as he heard it from 
 D'Arnac; then repeats : ~" Why did you marry him to 
 complicate this affair ? " 
 
 "Why?" cries Hilda, her blue eyes becoming like 
 wood violets with excitement, perhaps passion. " Why ? 
 Because he is such a fighter! " 
 
 "A fighter ! " gasps De Moncrief, astonished. 
 
 "The grandest fighter I ever saw! Ah! you 
 should have seen that glorious duel by the camp fire ! ' 
 and she is up before the Procureur telling the story not 
 only with her voice, but with eyes and graceful gestures, 
 quick as the actions she is describing, as she goes or. : 
 " My Irishman, his cavalry jacket thrown off, one while 
 sinewy arm bared to the shoulder! The dark-browed, 
 swarthy scoundrel, who would have made me his slave, 
 stripped likewise for the combat, and fighting almost as 
 well as my blue-eyed knight! The glistening blades 
 gleaming now and then in the flickering firelight! Then 
 only darkness and the clink of steel, 'as riposte follow 
 parry, and lunge follows counter! Then the f; 
 blazes up again ! A wild yell from Irish Lanty, one p;.: 
 more, and my Irish hero has him through the heart, ;.; 
 the man who would have made me his slave falls dc. v 
 at my feet, where I can trample him into the dust." 
 
 At this last her eyes are blazing with triumph, ini ". 
 nation, scorn, and one fairy foot is uplifted as if \ 
 crush the corpse that lies before her. 
 
 A second later her volatile mood changes, and : 
 laughs: "Would you not have loved, too, old c 
 blood, for FOR A LITTLE WHILE ? " 
 
 But De Moncrief does not answer this, for in ti- 
 the school girl of Des Capucines has frightened hi. 
 He has now discovered that though she has ambitii 
 great enough to take in France, she has also passk. 
 enough to devour the world, and he is thinking to himsi 
 rather grimly: " It is fortunate Monsieur d'Orleans i 
 not of a jealous disposition." A moment later IK 
 suggests uneasily: " You love this Irish hero still ? " 
 
 " Mo n Dieu ! How can I tell ? " she cries, laughing. 
 " I have not seen him for a year! " 
 
 And this reply soothes any concern he may have as 
 regards O'Brien Dillon.
 
 A PRINCKSS 01 I'AKIS. 133 
 
 " All the same," he remarks, "my fly-about young 
 lady, your marriage has placed a new and serious 
 complication for your friends to encounter. Will you 
 help them to meet this obstacle to your future great- 
 ness ?" 
 
 Her reply astounds him more. Her face grows 
 vindictive. She mutters: "What? Does he dare to 
 come here when I have written him if he comes, he 
 dies?" Then, her eyes grow tender, she says: "Of 
 course, my Irishman dares anything to see my face ! " 
 next mutters savagely: "If he troubles me, let him 
 take care! " 
 
 " Not in person," replies De Moncrief, "but Dillon 
 has sent a representative! " 
 
 "A what ? " 
 
 "A representative; his young friend, the Comte 
 d'Arnac. " 
 
 " Ah! that is the reason his sister, Madame la Mar- 
 quise de Chateaubrien, took so much interest in me! " 
 
 "She has been here to see you? " 
 
 "Yes, under pretence of visiting a little charge of 
 hers la petite Quinault, who has a wild kind of school- 
 girl affection for this young D'Arnac, whom it seems 
 rescued her in some romantic manner, for she is never 
 tired of telling of his exploits at the siege of Friburg." 
 
 " You have spoken to Madame la Marquise ? " 
 
 "Once! and that merely accidentally. The second 
 time she tried to see me, but I did not think it wise to 
 meet her, as there is no telling where a court intrigue 
 extends! " replies the young lady with an acumen so 
 beyond her years that De Moncrief gazes at her in 
 amazement. 
 
 Then he tells her the story of Raymond's efforts on 
 behalf of his comrade, and his intention, if possible, to 
 remove her to Vienna, to the care of her husband. 
 
 "To Vienna ?" mutters the girl, her face growing 
 white; "to Vienna ?" Never!" and stamps both fairy 
 feet. 
 
 " Why do you fear Vienna more than other places ? " 
 
 "Because that is where I was born because that 
 was where they spat upon and degraded my mother in 
 the Market Place because she dared to wed a count of 
 the Empire."
 
 134 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "Your mother was a Jewess," whispers De Moncrief. 
 
 "No, a Magyar; she was the daughter of Tekeli by 
 a morganatic wife. " 
 
 "The last King of Hungary! " gasps De Moncrief. 
 
 "Yes, the one even now in hiding with the Turks, " 
 cries the girl. Then she whispers: "Wait till I have 
 France in my hands, and Austria shall pay for my 
 mother's tears. " 
 
 A moment after she laughs "A truce to history 
 ambition can wait. Tell me what I must do now. " 
 
 "Now! In order," says De Moncrief, " to stop the 
 attempts of Comte d'Arnac at once and forever, will 
 you do as I tell you ? " 
 
 " Diable\ with pleasure. Tell me," remarks Made- 
 moiselle, nestling 'up to Cousin Charlie as he gives 
 to her a little plan that has originated in his fertile and 
 ingenious brain, which sends the young lady into 
 shrieks of laughter, and she cries out: "Brava! With 
 pleasure! This is a comedy! " 
 
 "That will be perhaps a tragedy," replies De Mon- 
 crief. 
 
 "Yes, everythingin its turn," laughs Madame Hilda; 
 next says significantly: " This evening I am at Mon- 
 sieur's orders." 
 
 ' ' Then remember AT TWELVE O'CLOCK ! " remarks Le 
 Procureur impressively as he rises to go. 
 
 ' ' At twelve o'clock ! I see we shall be great friends, " 
 she says, taking his hand, "you and I! " 
 
 "More, I hope!" replies De Moncrief suggestively. 
 " Then adieu for the present," says Hilda. 
 
 But as he is leaving she gives him such alluring 
 glances, such little cries of "Brava conspirator!" 
 "Thanks for to-night's comedy!" such a merry step 
 or two of the dashing sarabande that her abandon, 
 elan, and general infernal fascination makes this sinner's 
 old eyesroll as he mutters to himself: " I never envied 
 a prince of the blood before but now I would give 
 my soul to be Monsieur le Due d'Orleans! " 
 
 For the archness, the fascination, the vivacity aye, 
 even the very passion of the girl, was contagious. 
 And during their interview she had shown such loveli- 
 ness, such esprit, that Monsieur le Procureur was, for 
 the time being, out of his head.
 
 A PRINCKSS OF PARIS. 135 
 
 However, Cousin Charlie does not let his semi-insanity 
 interfere with present business, and he drives back i'<> 
 the great hotel of the Prince de Conti, and there, seeing 
 this gentleman, explains his little plan to him, remark- 
 ing: "If we carry her away ourselves, D'Orleans will 
 never forgive us for having kept his mouth watering so 
 long even though we restore her to him afterwards! " 
 
 " Sapristi ! how will the Duke know?" growls 
 De Conti. 
 
 " He knows already, or why did he use your liveries 
 and crest in his attempted abduction yesterday ? Now, 
 by my plan, the blame of the young lady's elopement 
 will fall all upon my cousin, the Comte d'Arnac!" 
 
 " Parbleu ! I believe you are right!" mutters the 
 Prince. 
 
 "Then give the orders as I request." 
 
 "With pleasure! " cries the Prince of the blood, and 
 calls in again the gentleman who directs his bullies and 
 his bravos, changing certain orders that he has given 
 him; then he chuckles savagely to himself: "This will 
 teach young D'Arnac to put his finger into De Conti's 
 pie! " 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE ELOPEMENT FROM DES CAPUCINES. 
 
 THE OBJECT of these sinister designs on leaving the 
 office of Cousin Charlie has hurried back with his news 
 to his sister, and told his story to her. 
 
 Then she has disconcerted him, for she has thrown 
 cold water on his romantic plans with regard to the 
 rescue of his friend's wife. 
 
 "You have seen Madame O'Brien Dillon again," 
 Raymond says, "as you promised ? " 
 
 "No; I tried to, incidentally, but for some reason or 
 other, could not obtain an interview without forcing 
 one, which I thought was unwise. What you have 
 discovered proves the wisdom of my course. Cousin 
 Charlie's advice, as your lawyer, is what you should 
 follow. There is some court intrigue something that 
 most unscrupulous and wretched reprobate the Prince
 
 136 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 de Conti is engaged in in regard to her. Yes, I will 
 call him a worthless reprobate, though he is a prince of 
 the blood," cries Mimi, with feminine vindictiveness, 
 to her brother's deprecating hand. "Something that 
 may be fatal to your career and success in life to 
 encounter! You may make great enemies powerful 
 at the court potent in the army. Promise me, my 
 brother, you will let this affair drop. If your friend 
 O'Brien Dillon wants his wife let him come and get 
 her. You only promised him to deliver a note to 
 her. Give it to me and I will see that she gets it." 
 
 "What good will that do him when there is a plot 
 now against his honor when they have already 
 attempted to abduct her ? " 
 
 "But she may have been cognizant of it," replies 
 Mimi, "and willing the abduction should take place." 
 
 "What nonsense! You yourself said the mother 
 superior told you O'Brien Dillon's wife knew nothing 
 of it. There is only one safe place for her under the 
 protection of her husband. And that is where I'm 
 going to place her," replies D'Arnac, growing sulky 
 under Mimi's objections. 
 
 " That you must not do," urges Madame de Chateau- 
 brien. Then she says contemplatively: "The beauty 
 of this woman I won't call her child, though she is in 
 a convent school is of the kind that would not make 
 her a good wife. I can tell from her manner she has 
 ambitions beyond being the spouse of a poor Irish 
 colonel. That she means her beauty to be her stepping 
 stone in life to some high rank or position ; that 
 her loveliness is to be for one of the princes of the 
 earth." 
 
 "Her beauty-shall be for her husband, to whom it 
 belongs," cries D'Arnac. "But since you will not aid 
 me 
 
 He rises to go, but Mimi's arms are round him 
 entreating him begging him. She knows the reckless 
 disregard of all rights of God or of any man, that he 
 does not fear of the Prince de Conti. It frightens her. 
 
 To her entreaties and almost tears, Raymond 
 unwillingly promises to turn the matter over in his 
 mind for a day or two. 
 
 "Then it is a promise," reiterates the sister.
 
 A PRINCK>S OK PARIS. 137 
 
 " Of course! " answers the brother. 
 
 " Very well ! " she replies. " Don't forget it as you 
 love me, don't forget it." 
 
 "Now go and have a pleasant evening with some of 
 your friends of the Garde, and think no more about this, " 
 suggests Mimi, whose two years greater age has given 
 her a motherly as well as sisterly regard for her dashing 
 and handsome young brother. 
 
 So with this promise on his lips, Raymond d'Arnac 
 sallies from the Hotel de Chateaubrien, and pushes his 
 way through the crowd on the Pont Neuf going toward 
 the Hotel de Crevecceur on the Rue St. Andre, where 
 he has taken his quarters with his aunt. 
 
 In this concourse of hucksters, beggars, hackdrivers 
 and peddlers, mixed with the carriages of the nobility, 
 .and some old ladies' sedan chairs, that have not as yet 
 entirely gone out of fashion, Raymond jostles his way 
 with that careless ease peculiar to le jeune militaire, and 
 chancing to push past a couple of Italian retainers of 
 the Prince de Conti, one of them whispers to the other : 
 "That's the man! Don't forget his face for to-night! " 
 
 " I have him ! I remember him ! " is the reply. 
 
 But this is in Italian, a language D'Arnac does not 
 understand, and he proceeds on his way with all the 
 unconcern of a young man who has thrown, for the time 
 being, a weighty matter off his mind, thinking he will 
 hunt up De Soubise and De Rohan, and one or two 
 other young blades, and make an evening of it. 
 
 But at the very entrance of the Hotel de Crevecceur 
 he is stopped by Cousin Charlie coming out. 
 
 "I've been here to see you," replies De Moncrief to 
 Raymond's greeting. "I came in person to tell 
 you I have just made a wonderful discovery with regard 
 to that villain, the Prince de Conti! " 
 
 " In reference to Madame O'Brien Dillon ? " says Ray- 
 mond, hurriedly. 
 
 "Yes. Do you know that unscrupulous Prince is 
 about to remove her from the convent this evening?" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Why ? Herause In- fears the Due d'Orleans will get 
 hold of her. He doesn't propose to have Monseigiieur 
 Philippe interfering with his pri/e. He has obtained an 
 order from that old fool, Poisson, to that effect. This
 
 138 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 will be your only chance to conduct Madame O'Brien 
 Dillon to her husband in Vienna! " 
 
 "Why my only chance ? " 
 
 "Because how could you get her from the convent 
 Des Capucines without scaling its walls, and carrying 
 her off by force even if she remain there ? But if you 
 have a carriage and postilions and horses immediately 
 behind that of the Prince de Conti, at the door of the 
 convent at twelve o'clock to-night, when they bring her 
 out to deliver her to him, you have a quick wit and 
 ready sword. Why not pluck her right out of his arms, 
 into your coach, and presto! away for Vienna! That 
 would be an exploit worthy of your friend, O'Brien 
 Dillon what he would do for you! " 
 
 " And if I do not move to-night ? " 
 
 "You will never have a chance to move in the matter 
 again! I do not advise your doing it, that 
 must be your own decision; but I could not refrain from 
 telling you what I have discovered! " 
 
 ' ' And how did you learn it ? " 
 
 "From two ruffians of the Prince de Conti that I 
 bribed. I understand Italian. I accidentally over- 
 heard a few words from them in the street, and one 
 hundred crowns .increased their frankness. These fellows 
 will sell themselves for anything." 
 
 "Very well! here's your hundred crowns! " remarks 
 Raymond, and astonishes De Moncrief by placing the 
 money in his hand. 
 
 " What have you determined to do ? " 
 
 "Nothing!" 
 
 "Nothing?" 
 
 " NOTHING ! I shall simply think it over, but I'm very 
 much obliged to you. Now I must dress for 
 the evening. I hope to have De Soubise and De 
 Rohan to dinner with me. Won't you make one of 
 the party ? " 
 
 " No, I have an engagement! " mutters the Procureur 
 with a little sigh, and goes away with disappointment 
 in his heart to take his solitary dinner and commune 
 with himself on the misadventure that he thinks has 
 come upon his plans. 
 
 But at the close of his meal he hurriedly jumps from 
 the table, for in his occult mind has suddenly sprung
 
 A 1'RINCKSS n| PARIS. 139 
 
 up this idea: " Raymond is twenty! Youth changes its 
 views quickly! He said he would consider my suggestion. 
 I'll see if he's at dinner with De Soubi- 
 
 And he walks off hurriedly to the Armenian Cafe in the 
 Foire Saint Germain to discover that De Rohan and 
 De Soubiseare both at dirmer there, and have not seen 
 young D'Arnac. 
 
 " Egad ! he's changed his mind I'll have him yet !" 
 chuckles De Moncrief, and directs his way to the Hotel 
 de Crevecceur. 
 
 Here, being shown in, he is shortly received by 
 Clothilde, who says to him hurriedly: "We have such 
 bad news ! Raymond is going away this evening ! " 
 
 " Raymond going aha ! " a sigh of rapture. 
 
 "Yes, he follows his sister to Melun. She has 
 received, by courier, news that her husband on his 
 way from the Rhone, has fallen seriously ill there. She 
 has already gone Raymond follows after. Why, your 
 face is white ! I did not know Monsieur de Chateau- 
 brien was so dear to you ! " 
 
 For De Moncrief's visage has grown pale with disap- 
 pointment, as he thinks D'Arnac will take post to 
 Melun to be by his sister's side, and that is an end of 
 his scheme against him for the present. 
 
 A moment after he makes his adieu to Clothilde 
 who overwhelms him with condolences at his sorrow at 
 the unfortunate affair. 
 
 But as he passes out of the Hotel de Crevecceur, he 
 is jostled by Raymond's servant. 
 
 "Pardon, Monsieur de Moncrief," says the servitor, 
 " but I am going in advance of Monsieur d'Arnac to 
 order post horses along the road." 
 
 "Ah, yes, to Melun !" mutters Le Procureur surlily. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "To Claye, Mieux, Changis. We're to travel quick." 
 
 "Well, be careful and order good horses, and \vi*h 
 your master a pleasant journey for me ! " says De 
 Moncrief, with such a sudden change in his voice that 
 the lackey departs on his errand astonished. 
 
 For joy has come to the Procureur du Roy ! "Claye, 
 Mieux, Changis ? that, the road to Melun ? That's the 
 road to Strassburg, the Rhine and Austria !" rlmrkles
 
 14 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 the old gentleman to himself, for he now knows that 
 his cousin has changed his mind, and is going to 
 attempt the restoration of Madame O'Brien Dillon to 
 her husband in Vienna. 
 
 So he goes off carefully repeating the route to himself, 
 and getting to the great hotel of De Conti, tells that 
 prince just where he can waylay his cousin on his 
 journey to Strassburg. 
 
 In this he guesses right. Raymond, turning the 
 matter over, had flown- to Mimi, not only to ask her 
 advice, but to be relieved of his promise. At the 
 Hotel de Chateaubrien, however, he had found that 
 Madame la Marquise having suddenly received word by 
 courier that her husband was desperately sick at Melun, 
 on his return journey from Southern France, had ordered 
 post horses at once, and was now on her way to the 
 side of Monsieur de Chateaubrien. 
 
 "If I do not act to-night," cogitates this reckless 
 young gentleman, " perchance my comrade's wife is lost 
 to him. How can I look him in the face, if I could 
 have saved her, and would not ? " 
 
 Filled with this generous idea, Raymond had returned 
 to the Hotel de Crevecceur, told the news to his aunt of 
 Monsieur de Chateaubrien 's sickness, and said he was 
 going away for some time, she naturally mistaking his 
 destination for the side of his sister's sick husband. 
 
 So it comes to pass that ten minutes before the 
 clock of distant Notre Dame strikes twelve, Raymond 
 d'Arnac drives from the Rue St. Honore' into the Place 
 Louis le Grand, now shrouded in darkness, for its few 
 oil lamps have been extinguished, and keeping the big 
 statue of Louis XIV. between his carriage and the 
 convent, drives straight across the open square towards 
 the portals of Des Capucines, which stands opposite, 
 where he sees another coach already waiting, and 
 knows the information the Procureur has given him is 
 correct. 
 
 He whispers to his coachman and the two lackeys 
 who are with him: " Don't move till you see the door 
 open and the lady brought out! " 
 
 "Ah, trust us, Mr. Wild Blood," answers the driver. 
 Then one of the other men mutters: " The desecra- 
 tion of a convent! " and crosses himself.
 
 A PRINCES 
 
 141 
 
 A moment after, the coachman gasps: "Good 
 God! what will D'Argenson do with us?" For the 
 police had a very nasty way, at that time, of punishing 
 valets and underlings for the crimes of their noble 
 masters and mistresses. 
 
 "They can't catch you till you have squandered the 
 two hundred crowns I have promised you ! You can 
 hear me clink them in this bag! " whispers Raymond, 
 anxiously. 
 
 This sound of silver vanquishes fear of the Church 
 and terror of the police. The lackeys prepare 
 to do his bidding, though in rather a half-hearted 
 manner. 
 
 " You saw some one go into the convent ? The door 
 opened as we passed the corner ? " asks D'Arnac. 
 
 "Yes! " replies the coachman. 
 
 "Then when the door opens again, it's for them to 
 come out! Move quick when I speak! " 
 
 So they wait there for nearly ten minutes, shrouded 
 in the shadow of the great equestrian statue of Louis 
 XIV. that holds the middle of the place. 
 
 Then the portals of Des Capucines open, a faint 
 light shows upon the street, and a lady, assisted by a 
 gentleman, comes down the steps. 
 
 "Now!" whispers Raymond. 
 
 The coachman drives rapidly up, running into the 
 coach standing in front of the convent, into which 
 the gentleman has just assisted the lady. 
 
 As he passes her in at one door of the carriage, 
 Raymond opens the other, pulls her, with his strong 
 arms, out of the De Gonti coach, and swings her into 
 his own. 
 
 Then as the gentleman, with an oath of astonish- 
 ment, attempts to follow, D'Arnac's sword is at 
 his breast, and he whispers: "Back, meddler, or 
 you die!" 
 
 A second after he has sprung into his carriage, which 
 is driving rapidly away, while a faint but lovely voice is 
 saying: "Help! mercy! spare me!" though could 
 he see it the lady has stuffed her kerchief into her mouth 
 to keep from giggling. 
 
 But Raymond reassures her by saying in his noblest 
 tones: "Madame, have no fear! I, the comrade of
 
 142 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 your husband, O'Brien Dillon, am taking you to 
 Vienna, to place you in his arms! " 
 
 Then the lady astonishes him by sobbing: "Thank 
 God ! At last I shall see my gallant Irish husband ! 
 Noble D'Arnac, you are my only trust! " and a pair of 
 the softest, roundest, loveliest arms in the world clasp 
 themselves about his neck and a delicate head with hair 
 of softest perfumed locks seeks protection on his bosom 
 and makes his twenty-year heart beat wild and furious. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE- SIREN'S SONG. 
 
 So HE goes to soothing her fears and tremblings; 
 doing so in the wild way of youth, patting her pretty 
 hands, stroking her soft hair, and telling her that he 
 will protect her as faithfully as if her husband himself 
 were by her side, for up to that time Raymond had only 
 seen her wondrous beauty as in the miniature to it had 
 not been added the marvelous fascinations of her eyes 
 nor the fairy graces of her person. 
 
 But he has not much time for his tender attentions, 
 as the people in the other carriage are now making 
 a great show of hot pursuit. 
 
 His coachman calls for advice, and he directs him 
 still to keep to the north, and go out of Paris in 
 that way. They can make better time through the half 
 rural lanes they are now coming into than in the narrow 
 streets of the city proper. 
 
 Urging the horses to their full speed, they fly round 
 the corner into the Rue Louis le Grand, then into the 
 Neuve St. Angus and the Rue Faideu, next a quick turn 
 into the Rue Montmartre, and at last, distancing their 
 pursuers, they see and hear the carriage behind them no 
 more. 
 
 A moment after they are in Le Cours with its great 
 avenues of trees. 
 
 Here Raymond directs his coachman to turn towards 
 the east, and they journey along this new great drive- 
 way practically going over the ground on which to-day 
 stand the grand boulevards of modern Paris. So jour-
 
 A rkl\( 1->S OF PARIS. 143 
 
 neying around the northern portion of the city of that 
 day they come out into the country by the Porte du 
 Temple, and still keeping to the north, past La Cour- 
 tille, after a little they turn into a cross lane and' at last 
 reach the main road leading to Claye, a little town some 
 twelve miles distant to the east. 
 
 Driving still with whip and spur, at last its houses 
 come in sight, and they draw up at the post-house. 
 But their enforced detour has delayed them, and it is 
 now three o'clock in the morning. 
 
 During this journey, occupied by precautions to prevent 
 pursuit, and in giving directions to his coachman and 
 lackeys, Raymond has been unable to pay anything but 
 desultory attention to his fair companion. 
 
 Part of the time he has been on the seat beside the 
 driver, with both pistols ready, as the road has passed 
 through the forest of Bondy, at that time notorious for 
 its foot-pads, highwaymen and bandits. 
 
 Fortunately Raymond has been relieved of any great 
 amount of trouble on Madame O'Brien Dillon's account, 
 for after the first quarter of an hour the young lady had 
 settled herself very comfortably in a corner of the 
 carriage, and made warm by the robes her companion 
 put about her, had gone very contentedly to sleep. 
 
 As the carriage stops, she wakes up suddenly, gives a 
 little start of surprise, and cries: "We are halted! Are 
 we pursued and overtaken ? " clutching the arm of her 
 protector in a feminine timidity enchanting in its 
 appealing helplessness. 
 
 "No, only the first post-house! Now to give you 
 some refreshment while we change horses! *' And lifting 
 her lightly out of the coach, Raymond assists her into 
 the auberge, which in the darkness seems a comfortable 
 though unpretentious hostelry. 
 
 Here they are received by the mistress, who is standing 
 at the door, saying: "We expected you! Your courier 
 has given directions. The horses will be ready soon!' 
 
 A bright-looking young maid servant who gazes with 
 wide open eyes at the officer and his graceful companion 
 is behind her. 
 
 A moment later they are in the main apartment of 
 the place, which apparently does duty a> a siting and 
 eating room combined. A few tallow dips are lighted,
 
 144 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 and logs burning brightly in the large open fire-place 
 add to the illumination. 
 
 Then for the first time Raymond d'Arnac truly sees 
 the loveliness of the lady who has ridden beside him 
 for the last three hours. He expected beauty wondrous 
 immense. He gets it but also arch glances from 
 enchanting eyes piquant gestures from graceful arms, 
 tender words from lips carved out of coral, and the 
 fascination of seeing a loveliness but before imagined; 
 embodied, living, breathing, moving under his very eyes. 
 
 Her very beauty embarrasses him; he stammers, as 
 she seats herself in alluring pose : ' ' You you are not 
 afraid?" 
 
 "Afraid ? no! " The blue eyes open wide in inno- 
 cent astonishment, as she returns, adding subtle flattery 
 to her other fascinations: "Are you not the hero of 
 Friburg ? " 
 
 Then Raymond calls to the post-mistress who has 
 been looking on, and orders : ' ' Refreshments, quick ! " 
 
 "What does Monsieur wish ? " 
 
 "Everything in the house that can make this lady 
 comfortable! " 
 
 And the woman going off on her errand, he turns to 
 Hilda, standing very much as a young knight might 
 have done in the days of chivalry, and bowing with the 
 punctilio of the old school, says: "Madame O'Brien 
 Dillon, for this journey I am, in duty to my comrade, 
 your husband your protector! It shall be made with 
 every care of your personal comfort that is consistent 
 with safety. As your escort, I shall ride beside your 
 carriage to Mieux, where by the blessing of God, I 
 hope we may be early this morning. There my courier, 
 who is traveling in advance, will have provided for you 
 a suitable attendant and maid. You shall journey to 
 Vienna like a princess! " 
 
 "Then, like a princess, I give you my hand to make 
 salutation ! " laughs the young lady. 
 
 Kissing her pretty fingers after the ceremonious 
 manner of that time, Raymond d'Arnac feels something 
 that is more than chivalry in his veins, for his glance 
 for the first time meets hers eye to eye. 
 
 A moment after, as if brushing away some insect that 
 had stung him, he passes his hand hurriedly over his
 
 \ PRINCESS OK PARIS. 145 
 
 forehead, then mutters: "I must see to the horses. 
 The mistress of the inn will bring you refreshments in 
 a moment." 
 
 "Won't you stay and share them ? " 
 
 " No, I I am not hungry. Besides, these lazy post- 
 boys need looking after! " Then, after a second's hesi- 
 tation, perchance even a pang, he mutters: "This 
 letter I promised to deliver into your hands," and 
 produces the missive with which O'Brien Dillon had 
 charged him. 
 
 " From my husband ? " 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 And thrusting the letter into her hand, he strides 
 out, leaving her gazing into the firelight, in which 
 she sees a handsome figure, short curly hair, dark, 
 expressive, noble eyes, and drooping moustache a la 
 militaire, and these together make the dashing Colonel, 
 the Comte d'Arnac. 
 
 She mutters to herself: "He is very handsome! I 
 wonder if he is as great a fighter as they say!" 
 A second after she laughs: " Perhaps this morning will 
 show me!" the letter of O'Brien Dillon still lying 
 unopened near her hand. 
 
 Then, the hostess coming in, Madame Hilda refreshes 
 her dainty self with the best there is in the house. 
 
 As she finishes her repast, her eye catching the letter, 
 she opens it, reads it very carefully, and her red lips 
 murmur: "Wheugh! This wild Irishman loves me TOO 
 MUCH!" Next mutters: "' He would be jealous of his 
 honor ! ' He must cross my path no more. ' " then laughs : 
 "Adieu, cher O'Brien!" 
 
 So, having bid her husband mentally eternal good-bye, 
 Madame Hilda sighs discontentedly for another adorer, 
 murmuring: "That handsome boy is very long away 
 from me." 
 
 As in truth Raymond is, for the stablemen seem 
 unusually sleepy and stupid, the horses have not been 
 harnessed in advance, and were it not that the young 
 officer himself, assisted by his lackeys, handled strap 
 and buckle, it would be morning before they are ready- 
 to proceed. 
 
 As this is finished and D'Arnac turns to enter the 
 inn, he is met at the door by the maid servant with
 
 146 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 the bright eyes. She puts a warning finger to her lips, 
 and whispers: " Hush! I have something for your ear, 
 my gallant. I always like to assist elopements. Six 
 men passed here after your servant had left. They 
 took the horses already harnessed for you. They went 
 on towards Mieux. " 
 
 "Mafoi! They could not have been pursuing me!" 
 laughs Raymond. 
 
 "No? Still I think they meant you evil !" whimpers 
 the girl. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because I heard them mention your name. You 
 are Monsieur le Comte d'Arnac the hero of Friburg, 
 of whom everybody has spoken so much." 
 
 " Sapristi ! Thanks, my little bright eyes," says 
 Raymond, pressing a louis d 'or into her hand. 
 
 Then the young man's brow becomes troubled. He 
 cannot understand how anybody hostile to his journey 
 can be ahead of him. His sudden assault seemed 
 such a surprise to the men in the De Conti carriage! 
 ' ' But for all that, " he thinks, ' ' I'll take my precautions. 
 To do this I'll ride ahead of my charge." 
 
 A moment later and he has brought Hilda out of the 
 inn, and has put her in the coach. His horse, already 
 saddled, is being held by one of his servants for him 
 to mount. 
 
 Hilda suddenly cries: "You are going to ride ? " 
 
 "Yes, beside your carriage! " 
 
 " But it will fatigue you too much ! " 
 
 "On the contrary, a little horse exercise will refresh 
 me ! " 
 
 "Very well! But before we get to Mieux, promise 
 me your company for half an hour. I have a few 
 important things to say to you." 
 
 "As you wish! " mutters the young man. 
 
 "Then in the morning," says the girl, " we ride 
 together." 
 
 The "together" thrills him, for it is the word of 
 O'Brien Dillon. The word he had spoken as he bid 
 him adieu the word he had muttered when their hands 
 clasped, before Raymond had crawled through the 
 mine at the Bastion of St. Peter to save the regiment 
 of Dillon.
 
 A l'KINU. i)| I'AKIS. 147 
 
 The young man thinks of all this as he gallops beside 
 the coach, and curiously enough it frightens him, for 
 he also thinks of the wondrous loveliness that is here in 
 his keeping that must be in his keeping until she 
 reaches Vienna, and sighs: " I would the journey were 
 shorter! " 
 
 But present action drives out introspection. They 
 have come to a little lane that leads towards the south 
 off the main road to Mieux. He hurriedly tells his 
 postilions to take this route, reasoning that if there is 
 danger ahead of him he will avoid it in the by-lanes of 
 the country, and by making a slight detour, reach 
 Mieux without molestation, even if there are people in 
 advance, looking out to waylay him. 
 
 So they ride on through country by-ways from which 
 the snow has just departed, bordered by trees which are 
 now taking on the leaves of spring. 
 
 Birds are beginning to sing their morning songs, and 
 the sun's first rays are just tinging the horizon, when a 
 white hand is waved to him from the coach, and the limpid 
 voice of Madame O'Brien Dillon cries in coaxing tones: 
 "Come! your promise. Dismount your horse and sit 
 in the coach by my side. I have a few questions to ask 
 you, and some little information to give." 
 
 Raymond cannot resist the bright eyes and entreating 
 voice. He gazes hastily about. It will soon be full day- 
 light, Mieux is even now in sight, the sun gilding its 
 distant steeples; there is small chance of danger. 
 
 Springing lightly from his horse, he gives its bridle to 
 one of the postilions to lead by the side of the equi- 
 page, and jumping into the coach, takes seat by his 
 charge, to listen to the voice of the siren singing the 
 song of innocence. For never was there such piquant 
 candor and such enchanting artlessness brought 
 together to make a young man's eyes grow brighter and 
 his heart beat faster. 
 
 As he takes seat beside Hilda the sun falls upon 
 her face fresh, even after this night's travel, as a morn- 
 ing daisy, and illuminates the outlines of a figure girlish 
 as that of Hebe, though rounded contours tell him it is 
 also that of Venus. 
 
 No longer in the convent costume, some light travel- 
 ing dress falls about her and makes her ethereal from
 
 148 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 the point of her tiny boot to the glossy golden tresses 
 of her head, patrician in its delicate beauty and graceful 
 pose on the white gleaming column that is her neck. 
 
 "Behold me," she says coquettishly. Then, having 
 caught his eye, she whispers: " Do I look guilty ? " 
 
 "Guilty? " stammers Raymond. "You!" Then he 
 cries: " Not if eyes show souls! " 
 
 " And yet, 'Lshe goes on pathetically, " my husband's 
 letter hints as much. As his friend, tell me what 
 dear O'Brien thinks about me ? He must have said 
 something to you about my enforced flight from him 
 that awful night at Valenciennes." 
 
 This Raymond does not answer. He will not tell 
 this lovely being that her husband in his wild pangs of 
 jealousy had ever cried out against her faith to him. 
 
 " Ah, he has doubted or you would speak! " she says 
 indignantly. "Now, I must tell you the truth." Then 
 she sighs: "Though O'Brien may still suspect me, 
 you shall believe me innocent. I could not bear to be 
 doubted by you .' " blending subtle caress of accent 
 with appealing hands that seem so white and gleaming in 
 their graceful movements. 
 
 With this she goes on, speaking rapidly ; bright eyes 
 and vivid gestures acting the story her limpid voice 
 relates : 
 
 "That night it had been such a happy day we had 
 passed together in the old town it had been such a 
 lovely evening as we dined together in Monsieur Law's 
 little chateau! And then to be torn from him my 
 husband! Is he not handsome and what a fighter! 
 You have seen him fight as I have! " 
 
 " I have had the honor of fighting by his side," 
 replies Raymond proudly. 
 
 "Ah, yes, and gained equal glory with him. What a 
 Paladin you must be also! " 
 
 Her blue eyes have in them admiration that is very 
 pleasant to this young gentleman. 
 
 " But Dillon's servant says he was betrayed to the 
 Austrians ! " answers D'Arnac, though his tones say he 
 thinks her innocent. 
 
 "Yes, but not by me ! " cries the girl. "That was 
 Law's plan, the man who calls himself my uncle, but 
 who is really my guardian. The man who was under
 
 A PRIXCKSS (U PARIS. 149 
 
 the assumed name of Lauriston, but whose real name is 
 Law, though the French here call him Lass. But I did 
 not know it ! As God is above me, when I went out 
 that evening, I thought the scratching on the window 
 was that of my pet dog". As I opened the door I found 
 myself in the very hands of the Austrians. They 
 whispered if I cried a warning, they would shoot him 
 my husband as he sat at the table. And so I stayed 
 with them, imploring them begging them praying 
 to them to spare his life and that delayed them long 
 enough for him to escape ! " 
 
 "So the scratching on the window was a signal !" 
 says Raymond. 
 
 "Yes, for my uncle my guardian. He had, 
 unguessed by me, arranged the surprise with the 
 Austrian officers. He wished, God forgive him ! to 
 put my husband out of the way ! " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because Dillon was my husband. Law had higher 
 views for me than that I should wed a soldier of fortune ! " 
 
 " Higher views for you ? " 
 
 "Yes! why not? "she cries. Then she goes on 
 imperiously: "Is that curious for the granddaughter 
 of Count Teke!i, called by his countrymen 'the last 
 King of Hungary ! ' ' 
 
 ' 4 You, the descendant of Tekeli ! " D'Arnac's eyes open 
 very wide, for that unfortunate prince's adventures had 
 been the talk of court and camp in Europe for many a 
 day. 
 
 4 'Yes, when my grandfather fled before the Imperial- 
 ists, compelled to take refuge with the Ottomans, 
 Monsieur Law, who was employed by him in some plan 
 to raise funds for the Hungarians, received me as his 
 charge, and also a sum of money for my education and 
 maintenance." Then her eyes glow with beautiful fire 
 and she cries: " Do I look so unlike the daughter of a 
 line of kings?" 
 
 " Like the daughter of the angels ! " replies the young 
 man impulsively, for Hilda's plausible account of her 
 action in O'Brien Dillon's surprise has made Raymond 
 think her not only a marvel of beauty indignant, but a 
 marvel of innocence accused. And to this has been 
 added the thought that in her veins flows the blood of
 
 15 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 nobles and princes, making her one of the elect of this 
 earth, for at that time there was a wall high as that of 
 China between the azur sang of \hegenttlh0mfae and the 
 noble, and the baser clay of the peasant and the bour- 
 geoisie. 
 
 "Ah," she says, "you believe me thank Heaven ! 
 It would have been hard to have been doubted by you ! " 
 Her emphasis makes the "you " an implied caress. 
 
 D'Arnac'seyes return it, for struggle how he may she 
 draws passion from him with every whisper of her lips, 
 every glance of her eye. "I always guessed Lanty 
 wasan idiot," he mutters, thinking of the fellow's inven- 
 tions that now seem to him ridiculous. 
 
 "Oh, yes ! Lanty, the scatter-brained valet of my 
 husband ! He said words against me also," she laughs. 
 "But you believe " 
 
 ' ' And love !" the young man thinks in his soul of souls. 
 
 But she runs on, "that is enough youth and 
 faith are by my side ! What a joyous journey to Vienna 
 this will be eh, Monsieur Raymond ! " FOR SHE HAS 
 
 FOR ONE MOMENT FORGOTTEN THE PLOT THAT IS TO 
 TAKE HER FROM HIS SIDE: 
 
 To this he answers nothing. He is dashing his curly 
 black hair back from his brow that is fevered by passion 
 and tortured by conscience, and his brain is pulsing 
 with this thought : "I did not know she was so fascinat- 
 ing so adorable! God help me keep O'Brien's honor 
 and my own ! ' 
 
 They are looking at each other. Heaven knows what 
 their eyes are saying, but it is something that makes the 
 dark ones blaze and the blue ones droop like dewy violets 
 when 
 
 Bang ! Bang ! ! BANG ! ! ! 
 
 Pistol shots are flying around ! The postilions are 
 leaping from their horses and scurrying for their lives, 
 for horsemen are riding up before and behind, with 
 Italian oaths and hoarse shouts: "Surrender the girl 
 or your life ! " 
 
 But as all this goes on about her, Hilda suddenly gives 
 a stifled shriek of astonishment. Raymond has sprung 
 from the carriage, and is on the back of his horse. 
 
 Then she gives another, perhaps louder scream, for 
 she is suddenly dragged out of the carriage, and with
 
 A PRINCESS OK PARIS. 151 
 
 one strong swing drawn up on the saddle in front of 
 him, and he is speeding along a little country lane that 
 leaves the larger road. 
 
 For D'Arnac's campaign on the Rhine has given him 
 military promptness of action, and the girl, though she 
 remembers the plot to take her from his side, for the 
 life of her cannot resist the potent charm of a ride with 
 him in his very arms and has even sprung towards 
 him, as he has drawn her up to his saddle bow. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A FRENCH LOCHINVAR. 
 
 FOR one instant surprise stays their pursuers. Then 
 the coach embarrasses them for the moment, for it has 
 stopped just at the entrance of the lane. 
 
 A moment after they get round this, and Raymond 
 d'Arnac, his present world in his arms, is speeding on the 
 little by-way, green hedges on both sides, from which 
 comes the perfume of nascent buds and flowers and 
 behind him, some one hundred and fifty yards in the rear, 
 eight or ten of De Conti's lackeys, bravos, and bullies. 
 
 And what a ride it is for them both! 
 
 Even with death perchance before him for the 
 private battles of those days meant little mercy for the 
 vanquished Raymond feels each drop of his coursing 
 blood glow with happiness. Excitement has driven 
 away thought of everything but the present ; her soft 
 round arms are about him, her fair hair is pressing his 
 burning cheek, her sweet voice is whispering in his ear. 
 
 As for Hilda, lying upon his breast, her heart beating 
 against his, she forgets all else save the great passion 
 in her wayward soul. 
 
 Glancing back, D'Arnac sees the men are hardly 
 gaining on him. This lane runs straight to the south. 
 He will find a by-path to the east, and so get her he 
 holds so very dear he acknowledges this to himself 
 now safely into Mieux. 
 
 So they dash on but not for long! 
 
 No by-path comes in sight BUT BEFORE THEM FLOWS 
 THE MARNE.
 
 152 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 The lane only runs to a little corn-mill turned by 
 water power. Beyond is the river, swollen now by a 
 spring freshet. Behind, De Conti's ruffians, who give 
 a yell of triumph. 
 
 Raymond has ridden on to a little dock the miller 
 uses for his boat, but there is no boat there ! 
 
 " Surrender! " comes from behind him. 
 
 He mutters hoarsely: "Surrender you NEVER! " 
 Then looking into her eyes very tenderly, and pointing 
 to the raging flood, he whispers: "Will you dare this 
 for me ? " 
 
 And she replies: "For you! To anyplace you go 
 YES ! " 
 
 Even as De Conti's horsemen thunder upon the dock, 
 spurring his reluctant charger, he makes leap into the 
 rushing river, as the miller's wife runs out of her 
 little cottage, wringing her hands and crying: "He 
 will be drowned !" and De Conti's ruffians give a yell 
 that is half surprise half joy ; for these Italian bravos 
 like to see a deed bravely done. 
 
 One or two of them prepare pistol and musketoon to 
 shoot him as he rises ; but these are dashed hurriedly 
 up by their leader, who cries: "Injure a hair of her 
 head and we are lost ! De Conti will never forgive us. " 
 
 So, protected by this being who has brought him 
 danger, Raymond rises, still on horseback, and still hold- 
 ing her on his breast, amid the billows of the flood, and 
 carried down by the raging waters, fights hjs way towards 
 the other bank, though round him are whirling logsandall 
 the other debris of a river freshet, sometimes wading if it 
 is shallow enough, sometimes swimming where compelled 
 the girl hanging round his neck laughing joyously, 
 patting him on the shoulder and whispering : " My 
 brave one ! To risk this for me HOW I LOVE YOU! " 
 he at last reaches the other bank. 
 
 But scrambling up through boulders and loose 
 rocks, just as they reach the shore, a log borne by the 
 freshet strikes his horse heavily in the flank. The 
 noble animal, whinnying with pain, sinks down, his leg 
 broken above the fetlock, as Raymond, with one strong 
 pull, draws Hilda upon the bank. 
 
 She cries: "We have escaped !" then bursts into 
 merriment, though she does not say why! for she is
 
 A PRINCESS <>l 1'ARIS. 153 
 
 thinking of the rage her successful abduction will bring 
 upon the Prince de Conti, old De Moncrief, and that 
 being who is trying to hold her destinies in his hand, 
 Monsieur Lass, at present of Venice. 
 
 "Not escaped yet!" gasps young Lochinvar, regain- 
 ing his breath, for looking backward- he sees the two 
 boldest of De Conti's men, encouraged by his success- 
 ful passage, have leaped their horses into the flood, and 
 are now following after him across the river. 
 
 Were his horse uninjured he could be far away before 
 they reach the shore ; as it is he must stay and fight. 
 This he does savagely, vindictively muttering between 
 clenched teeth : " I'll teach these canaille to follow a 
 colonel of France ! " 
 
 Then he turns and his eyes light up with wildest hope 
 as he gives encouragement to his fair companion ; and 
 sees the beautiful picture she makes as she stands on 
 the bank in graceful pose, wringing the water from 
 dripping clothes that drape about and cling to 
 her, showing the exquisite contours of her charming 
 figure. 
 
 "Have no fear ! What are two, to me, when I am 
 fighting for you ? " he whispers, a cruel, relentless look 
 coming into his dark eyes, as he goes down the bank to 
 meet his enemies at the shore, for he is fighting now, 
 not for friendship, not for his comrade, but for that one 
 great passion which has caused so many of the murders, 
 duels and assassinations of this world the love of 
 woman ! 
 
 Though the men who come against him are two, the 
 combat is not so unequal, for Raymond for his journey 
 had armed himself as a soldier; at his side he has 
 replaced the light rapier of the gentleman by a slashing 
 cavalry sabre, from the holsters of his saddle he has 
 just taken two well-tried pistols loaded with numerous 
 slugs. 
 
 The first of these firearms places one of his adver- 
 saries hors de combat as he struggles up the bank. The 
 second, dampened by the flood, fails to explode. 
 Throwing it away with a muttered curse, he stands on 
 foot confronting the man on horseback, who. while 
 Raymond has been attacking the other, has succeeded 
 in nriking a landing upon firm ground.
 
 154 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 Now the combat is unequal! The horse gives the 
 De Conti ruffian advantage over his opponent. 
 
 He is a fellow who knows how to use it, having seen 
 service under De Villeroy in Italy and D'Asfeld, in Spain, 
 and charges on D'Arnac, making the movement of his 
 horse give weight to the stroke of his sword. 
 
 This cut is parried by Raymond, who has not time 
 to avoid his adversary's rush, though the force of the 
 blow makes his arm tingle to the shoulder. 
 
 Then the man, with a frightful curse, turns and 
 charges full at D'Arnac, to run him down, and crush him 
 under his horse's hoofs. 
 
 But Raymond springs lightly aside. 
 
 As this is repeated the second time, D'Arnac changes 
 his tactics; even as he springs aside he runs after the 
 horse in its career, and catching the animal just as it 
 is turning, hamstrings the charger with his sabre, 
 bringing both it and its rider to the ground. 
 
 With sword uplifted and eyes that mean death, 
 D'Arnac cries: "Yield! Throw away your arms or 
 I kill you! " 
 
 "Maladetta! Of course I yield," answers the fellow. 
 
 " Rescue or no rescue. Quick, or I strike! " 
 
 "Then, rescue or no rescue, I am at your orders, 
 Colonel!" 
 
 "Swear it ? " 
 
 "By our Mother of Christ! " 
 
 So, taking his arms from the man and tossing them 
 over a hedge, he tells the fellow to stand aside. 
 
 Then he whispers cheerily to Hilda: " Half an hour's 
 walk, dear one, and we are in Mieux, where everything 
 shall be provided for your comfort and safety, and 
 then " His eyes have a wistful look. 
 
 But she answers him with a hoarse cry : " Too late ! 
 they are landing! We are lost!" 
 
 A quick glance at the river and Raymond sees delay 
 has put further and greater peril upon him. Having 
 at last secured a boat, four of the men are coming 
 across to the assistance of their comrades. They are, 
 of course, unmounted, but it is long odds against him! 
 
 He rushes to the bank to prevent their landing, and 
 the combat takes place half in the water, half on the 
 land. In it he would be perchance successful, for the
 
 A PRINCESS OK PARIS. 155 
 
 men in the boat are too much huddled together for the 
 free handling of their weapons. 
 
 He has already wounded one of them, when Raymond 
 hears Hilda's warning cry. 
 
 The ruffian he had disarmed, and whose life he had 
 spared, has regained his weapons, and regardless of his 
 oath, is coming to the assistance of his comrades. 
 
 It is the cry to warn him which ruins D'Arnac. 
 
 As he turns to see what danger is behind him, one of the 
 men in the boat upraising a heavy oar brings it down 
 with crushing force upon the head of the young man, 
 but still he fights on for her sake. 
 
 Half dazed he staggers up the bank, and meeting the 
 bravo who has broken the faith of both sword and 
 Church, with one last effort, parrying the wretch's 
 thrust, he cuts him down; then darkness comes 
 upon him and he sinks senseless at her feet, and 
 would in an instant be. dead under the steel of his 
 pursuers. 
 
 But Hilda is standing over him and fighting off their 
 weapons with her fair arms and crying to the ruffians: 
 " Don't kill him you have me! " 
 
 For a moment they pause ; then seeing signs of move- 
 ment in them, her eyes blaze, she threatens: "Raise 
 another hand against him, and I will have your heads 
 from your master, the Prince de Conti! You know how 
 he values me! " and laughs hysterically, jeering herself. 
 "I AM HIS SPECULATION IN BEAUTY." 
 
 By this time the leader of the lackeys has sprung 
 from the boat, and is beating up their hands, crying: 
 " Fools! obey her! " 
 
 Then turning to the fair object of his pursuit, he 
 says: "Your words are my command, madame! We 
 have our orders to that effect. But you must come 
 with us! " 
 
 "Certainly! that is the plan," returns Hilda. 
 
 Then she looks at D'Arnac and whispers : " Did he not 
 fight bravely for me! He must live to fight again ! " and 
 with her own fair hands bandages his brow, from which 
 the blood is oozing slowly; next commands: " \\'e will 
 take him to Mieux and give him a surgeon's care!' 
 
 "You must leave him now!" answers the leader, 
 hurriedly.
 
 156 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " Not till he is under the hands of a doctor! " 
 
 " Then in that case, we must use force, Madame! " 
 replies De Conti's representative politely, but firmly. 
 " Our orders are explicit to waste no time in this 
 affair. " 
 
 " I will not leave him wounded insensible!" But 
 though she cries and puts her arms about Raymond, and 
 even struggles with them, the servants of Monsieur de 
 Con ti are resolute, and drag her from the young man's 
 side. 
 
 At last she sobs: "Promise me by the Virgin that 
 you will take him to Mieux unharmed, and place him 
 in the surgeon's hand. Otherwise I will scream out at 
 every post-house, that you are carrying me away against 
 my will! " 
 
 "I promise! " mutters the leader sulkily. 
 
 " On the Virgin ? " she ejaculates, taking cross and 
 rosary from her neck. 
 
 " On the Virgin! " says the man, so solemnly that 
 she knows he will keep his word. 
 
 And so she goes away from Raymond, looking back at 
 the boyish figure, dripping with the water of the river, 
 the blood coursing slowly from his white forehead, and 
 sighing: " If they had killed him ? " Then she suddenly 
 mutters: " But no, he will live he was born to live for 
 me ! " 
 
 Being placed in the boat, Hilda is rowed across 
 to the old mill, where the coach has been brought down 
 to meet her. Stepping into this she is driven off, the 
 carriage taking a long detour towards the southeast, by 
 Troyes, Chatellon, and so past Dijon to the Rhone and 
 the sunny Mediterranean ; from thence the passage 
 into Italy is easy, by Nice and Genoa. 
 
 Nestled in the cushions of the coach Madame Hilda 
 goes into a merry little laugh, thinking to herself: 
 " Won't my elopement a la D'Arnac be a good story for 
 Uncle Johnny! " as the carriage rolls on towards Italy. 
 Where, after many days' travel, Hilda reaches Venice, 
 and Monsieur Law, who is at present playing pharo most 
 successfully among the nobles of the Grand Canal. 
 Here she is very safely kept till Louis XIV. will shuffle 
 off this mortal coil and the time is ripe for De ro-?. f i's 
 grand coup and Monsieur Lass and his system.
 
 A PRINCESS OF I'ARIS. 157 
 
 As for the young Lochinvar of this adventure he wakes 
 up in Mieux the next day with burning head and mur- 
 murs faintly: "Hilda! "but seeing she is not beside 
 him turns his eyes to the wall, distressed in mind as 
 well as body, and goes off under the bad surgical treat- 
 ment of that time into a fever, in which he raves of 
 little save his beautiful companion of that morning's 
 ride and flight. 
 
 But after a time youth conquers even unskilful surgery, 
 and Monsieur D'Arnac finds himself well enough to 
 journey back to Paris, where he is met by very cold looks 
 at court, and a pathetic scolding from his sister, Mimi, 
 who has brought back, with her a very sick husband to 
 nurse in Paris, as she whispers to him: "You foolish 
 boy! Every one accuses you here of running away with 
 your friend O'Brien Dillon's wife! What will the Irish- 
 man say when he hears of your breaking faith with him ? " 
 
 "I have already written to him! " replies Raymond, 
 hanging his head, for his sister's words have been so 
 near the truth. 
 
 This he has done, but it has not been a letter that 
 told all the truth. What gentleman could be so ungal- 
 lant as to betray a lady's love unto her husband. 
 
 " I shall never see her again ! " thinks the young man. 
 " Why should I confess to feelings that would make my 
 comrade despise me and with good reason ! " 
 
 For weak from the fever Monsieur d'Arnac has 
 become a good boy again, and conscience has kicked 
 Satan out of him, as it does in most sick men. 
 
 Just at this time he is sent for by his old chief, the 
 Due de Villars, who gives him a very scowling welcome, 
 and growls : ' ' You have not done well, my young colonel ! 
 It has cost you your present promotion to a general- 
 ship. Monsieur le Due d' Orleans is very much displeased 
 with you. I do not wish to discuss the affair with you," 
 for Raymond has been about to speak, "because I 
 know " a little gleam of merriment comes into tin- 
 old warrior's eyes and he chuckles: " I Joys will IK- 
 boys!" Then his voice grows stern as In- says: 
 would to Heaven it had been with some OIK- else but 
 your comrade O'Brien Dillon's wife you will have t-> 
 cross swords with the Irish Colonel when he comes 
 to Paris! "
 
 158 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "I think not!" answers D'Arnac. "I was acting 
 in his interest ! " 
 
 "Acting in his interest by eloping with his wife! " 
 gasps the Marechal. " Diable ! Prove that to me and 
 you'll beat old theologian Fenelon himself! " 
 
 "Well, then, I make you my father confessor," 
 returns Raymond, who would sooner tell his old chief 
 everything than any one else. And so he does, giving 
 him the whole story of the elopement from first to last. 
 
 " Ho, ho! ha, ha! " screams the veteran, the tears of 
 laughter running from his eyes. "On behalf of your 
 comrade you carried off his wife to restore her to him 
 in Vienna; \)\n\. parbleu ! Madame was so naive, so allur- 
 ing, so infernally innocent, that at the Last you were 
 going to increase her innocence by carrying her off for 
 yourself man Bayard !" 
 
 A moment after he grows serious and adds: "I've 
 more to say. I don't know how, but in this matter 
 you have run against De Conti's interests. Now, 
 that prince is a very hard stone wall for you to 
 butt your young head against. The stories they've 
 told about you are awful breaking open a convent, 
 sacrilege, and all that! Madame de Maintenon has 
 even spoken to the King about it, and were his Majesty 
 well enough to attend to business, it might go hard 
 with you. D'Argenson has even suggested arrest- 
 ing you, but he is a cur who always growls at the 
 underdog in a fight. As it is, I have done the best I can 
 for you. I want you away from your enemies till they for- 
 get you. I want you to be a general soon. I have an 
 order giving you command of a regiment on the Span- 
 ish border. There you can gain your step by capturing 
 smugglers and contrabandists. You leave to-morrow." 
 
 Under these circumstances D'Arnac deems it wise 
 not to discuss the matter further with his commanding 
 officer, but thanks him for his interest in him, and next 
 day bids his relatives adieu in Paris and takes post for 
 the Pyrenees, traveling through a country that shows 
 the effects of the tax-gatherer grinding down a people ; 
 villages that have become depopulated, and large towns 
 half deserted, for France, under the last days of the 
 Grand Monarch and his fermiers ge'ueraux, was the 
 most oppressed and distressed country of Europe.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 159 
 
 So Raymond d'Arnac passes out of the life of Paris, 
 and for three years occupies himself in destroying 
 smugglers that are brigands, and contrabandists who 
 are bandits, and in that time changes from the boy of 
 impulsive sword and heart to the man of wit, conduct 
 and experience,
 
 BOOK III. 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE BIRTH OF MODERN PARIS. 
 
 IT is the first day of November of the year 1717 when 
 Raymond d'Arnac returns to the capital of France, 
 riding in at the Port aux Tripes from the South. 
 
 His three years of hard service on the Spanish 
 frontier have given him what age always brings to those, 
 who learn experience; not the experience of the 
 courtier, but the experience of the man of action and 
 decision. 
 
 His face is but little older, for healthy manhood 
 changes but slightly between twenty and twenty- 
 three. His moustache is a little longer, his eye per- 
 chance somewhat sterner, his lips slightly more deter- 
 mined, than when he rode out of Paris that night to 
 carry Madame O'Brien Dillon back to her husband in 
 Vienna; for he has seen that service the most trying 
 to all officers the command of mutinous troops. 
 
 It is owing to his undaunted courage in put- 
 ting down an outbreak in his regiment, that he now 
 wears the uniform of a general. On taking his post 
 in the Pyrenees, he had found his command, once 
 veterans of the Spanish war, having done good service 
 in the peninsular, transformed into a band of 
 marauders, foragers, and almost semi-banditti. 
 Having received no pay from the government for years, 
 hardly forage, scarcely rations they were compelled to
 
 A PRINCKSS 01- 1'AKIS. l6l 
 
 subsist upon the country _as best they could. They 
 did so after the manner of middle age freebooters. 
 
 And this going on for over a year after Raymond had 
 assumed command, one day in the autumn of 1715 
 Louis XIV. being dead they had openly mutinied, and 
 swore they would march to Paris to find out what had 
 become of the Commissary General. This e'meute 
 of the men had been put down by the steady determi- 
 nation of their chief, and in consequence of his conduct, 
 the Regent had given D'Arnac the rank the King 
 had withheld. 
 
 Then shortly after, in 1716; their pay arrived not in 
 driblets, but in a lump the arrears of years and half 
 starving men, and officers with uniforms patched, and 
 hungry faces, wondered what had come to make France 
 rich. 
 
 Shortly after it became known to the troops that their 
 good fortune was owing to one Monsieur Lass, who had 
 advanced money to the Regent i:o pay the army. 
 
 After that the military swore by Lass, and no man 
 could question or sneer at the new financial power that 
 was rising in France, in the presence of the army, with- 
 out being asked if he were a common fellow, by one of 
 the privates, how he dared say a word against the good 
 angel of the army; or, if he were of the rank of gentle- 
 man, being tapped on the shoulder by some commis- 
 sioned officer of France and requested to cross swords 
 with him. Parbleu ! for daring to raise his dirty 
 tongue against the friend and benefactor of all who 
 wore the uniform of France. 
 
 This new power coming up behind the Regency has 
 recalled to Raymond the Monsieur Lass of Venice, the 
 guardian of Madame O'Brien Dillon, and though he 
 receives his promotion, he shrewdly thinks it is perhaps 
 owing to that gentleman's kind offices that his request^ 
 for leave to visit Paris have never been honored until 
 this time, when they could not well be refused, as he 
 has served for three years on the outposts of the army, 
 and is now called by urgent personal family business to 
 Paris. 
 
 For his uncle, the Comte de Crevecceur, has at l.i^t 
 concluded that he is too sick to risk his soul l>\ eating 
 meat in Lent, and has made personal interest with
 
 162 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 Monsieur le Due d'Orleans to permit his nephew to visit 
 Paris, as he wishes to see him before he dies in regard 
 to the best disposition of his estates, to enable the 
 family to keep sufficient means together to continue the 
 grand establishment consonant with its high rank and 
 prestige. 
 
 It is on this business that Raymond d'Arnac is 
 coming to Paris, though he knows he will have also some- 
 thing to do about his ward, Mademoiselle Jeanne Quin- 
 ault, who has grown into quite a young lady, his sister 
 Mimi's letters have told him, and of so wild and head- 
 strong a disposition that the widowed Marquise de 
 Chateaubrien finds it very difficult keeping proper con- 
 trol over desires which, Mimi states, are both frivolous 
 and absurd. 
 
 For the little Jeanne has expressed, with tremendous 
 emotion and emphasis, and frightful stamping of the 
 feet, her determination to run away from the convent 
 and go on the stage. 
 
 Burdened with the cares of her husband's large estate, 
 as two years before this Roul de Chateaubrien had 
 passed away, Mimi has requested her brother's aid 
 in controlling what she terms "a child of nature and 
 le diable!" 
 
 Occupied with these ideas Raymond d'Arnac, as he 
 rides along the streets of Paris, would scarce notice the 
 change in them were it not of so marked an order as to 
 arouse his wonder almost his astonishment. 
 
 He had left the capital of France filled with the 
 suffering that always comes with reckless spoliation in 
 government ; the people in want without occupation 
 without hope even starving. He comes back to find 
 the city a hive of industry, the populace merry and 
 happy; well fed, well cared for, and working like bees 
 in the honey. 
 
 Raymond wonders to himself if this is also the work 
 of Monsieur Lass, who has made the army contented 
 by regular and sufficient pay and rations, and has 
 apparently made the provinces that he had ridden 
 through on his way to the Pyrenees equally prosperous, for 
 the depopulated villages, on his return, have seemed 
 full of industry, and the half deserted towns have again 
 their streets full of busy people, their factories
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 163 
 
 noisy with the hum of looms, their corn mills grinding 
 away on the plenteous harvest brought in by happy 
 husbandmen He has said to himself: "Diable'viho 
 is the author of all of this ? Is it Monsieur Lass and 
 his system ? (for these were getting to be very much 
 talked about.) "If so, he must be a very great 
 man! " 
 
 At this moment this was also the opinion of many at 
 the Court of Versailles and in the City of Paris. 
 
 This wondrous change had come about in the 
 years of Raymond's absence, very much after this 
 manner: 
 
 When D'Arnac had ridden away from Paris Louis 
 XIV., grown imbecile by age and high living, had for 
 years been under the subjection and rule of that wicked 
 old shrew, Madame de Maintenon, whose religion was a 
 mixture of cant, bigotry, hypocrisy and superstition, 
 and under her domination he had run the Government 
 of France very much as an old woman would run it. 
 He had spent everything on himself and his favorite 
 mistress, panders and sycophants, and nothing on his 
 country. He had rented out the revenues of France to 
 the fermiers ge'ne'raux, who had despoiled it, grinding 
 the poor to starvation by their taxes, the rich to despair 
 by their exactions. 
 
 His foreign policy had been conducted on the 
 personal enmity plan, and he had squandered the lives 
 of his subjects and the revenues of his Kingdom 
 on the war of the Spanish succession because he had 
 taken a dislike to his imperial cousin of Austria. 
 
 In the face of common sense, good judgment, and every 
 rational and patriotic consideration, he had continued 
 this war till France was so exhausted, both in men and 
 money, that had it not been that John Churchill, Duke 
 of Marlborough, loved the French gold thrown at his 
 feet by his affrighted Most Christian Majesty Louis 
 XIV. better than he did even glory in war after the 
 battle of Ramillies, the capital of France might have 
 fallen before the Austrian and British luyom-tv F<.r 
 Paris in 1706 was more open to the English and Imperi- 
 alists, under the Duke of Marlborough and Prim < 
 Eugene, than it was in 1870 to the Germans, under 
 Bismarck and Von Moltke, after Sedan.
 
 164 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 So, under this monarch, who said placidly and 
 believed in his very soul, ''lam the State!" France 
 had gone from bad to worse. 
 
 What had commenced as a prosperous reign had be- 
 come an unfortunate one, and a country that had been 
 very rich had become very poor, many of its best popu- 
 lation being driven from it for religious belief, and many 
 of its best artisans fleeing to other lands to avoid its 
 tax gatherers; its army unpaid ; its ministers and pleni- 
 potentiaries without funds for years, so that they almost 
 starved in foreign capitals, and had not money enough 
 even to pay postage on their letters to ask relief from 
 the country that had sent them out as its embassadors. 
 
 Filled with that peculiar veneration that belief of 
 semi-deity placed around a king who common mortals 
 thought crowned by God France suffered his rule 
 and suffered for it until in the course of time, on 
 Sept. ist, 1715, " I am the State " died, and the State 
 survived his demise very well and very happily. 
 
 His little grandchild, Louis XV. , too young to reign 
 came to the crown, but a Regent must be appointed, 
 and that Regent must be Philippe, Due d'Orleans! At 
 least he had so decreed it, with his following, the Dues 
 de Conde, de Conti and Saint Simon, and others of his 
 crowd and backing. 
 
 So, even before the body of the late King had been 
 placed at rest, they called a meeting of the Parliament, 
 and this Parliament, doing very humbly what it was 
 commanded to do, abolished the will of the late King 
 and promptly took all chances of government from 
 his^ Dastards, who were itching for it, the Due 
 de " Maine and the Count de Toulouse, and placed 
 the Regency in the hands of Philippe, Due d'Orleans, 
 which Philippe, Due d'Orleans, made up his mind 
 very promptly, was equivalent to having the full 
 power of a reigning king. 
 
 In fact, even before Parliament made him Regent, 
 he had decreed this condition of things, and had 
 three regiments of Gardes, under the command of 
 his crony, the Due de Guiche, surrounding Parliament 
 at the time they were making him Regent, to bully 
 and browbeat, and whip into shape, and perchance 
 stab and do to death any members of that body who
 
 A I'RINl !.>< UK I'ARI-. 165 
 
 questioned the proposition that Philippe, Due d'Orleans, 
 was to take the reigns of government in France. 
 
 Now, curiously enough, after this statement of affairs, 
 Philippe d'Orleans, Regent of France, was a very good 
 kind of prince, after the manner of the princes of that 
 day. He didn't believe in anybody doing wrong but 
 himself. He ordered all arrested under the lettres de 
 cachet of his predecessor to be released from the Bastile. 
 
 One, a poor Italian, who had been seized, on the 
 very night of his arrival in Paris, for some reason not 
 one of those who had him in charge could guess, and 
 who had been kept in a solitary oubliette, on bread and 
 water, for thirty-five years, on being let out to the light 
 of day, cried in despair that he knew no one in this 
 world that his relatives in Italy had all thought him 
 dead long ago that all his property had gone to the 
 winds of heaven that he did not even know his way 
 through the streets of Paris that he would starve ! For 
 God's sake to put him back in the Bastile and let him 
 die there. 
 
 This favor was kindly accorded to him, though he 
 was given a better resting place and better rations, 
 and he thanked his Highness, the Due d'Orleans, for 
 his kindness to him,, and finished up his unfortunate 
 life within the confines of the great fortress that had so 
 long been his prison his home. 
 
 But though Philippe d'Orleans did release all arrested 
 under the lettres de cachet of Louis XIV. he did not 
 restrict himself from the proper and polite use of these 
 peculiar engines of despotism, which permitted him to 
 seize, arrest, and confine, without word to relatives, 
 without trial in court any h "man being it pleased his 
 sovereign will to inter, confine, and shut out from the 
 light of day. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this, Philippe was of an easy- 
 going, careless, affable disposition, with an unlimited 
 love for pretty ladies, and unlimited conseienee in 
 gratifying his love, with an open purse t'r all his 
 favorites and mistresses, and a most extraordinary wish, 
 for potentates of that clay, to pay tin- debts of his 
 country, which were enormous, as upon the death "I 
 Louis le Grand, the Budget of !' ranee showed a iletu -it 
 of twenty-eight hundred million livres an enormous
 
 1 66 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 sum to-day but one appallingly colossal, judging by 
 the money value of that time. 
 
 But how to pay it ? 
 
 The troops in arrears for years! The ministers 
 unpaid for generations! 
 
 At first it was proposed to liquidate the public debt 
 of France in the easy way of that time by an edict 
 wiping it out and expunging it from the public ledger. 
 
 But easy-going Philippe could not bring himself to this 
 radical measure, as the capital of many of the favorites 
 of his court and of many of the country nobility had 
 been invested in government rents and annuities, and 
 there came up a great cry from this unfortunate class 
 among them the Count de Crevecceur that made the 
 angels in Heaven itself hold their ears at their noise, 
 and, therefore, penetrated the thick walls of the Palais 
 Royal, in which Monsieur le Due was very contentedly 
 basking in his new authority. 
 
 Then it was proposed to fall on and despoil the 
 fermiers gene'raux, who had been making all the money 
 out of the collection of taxes ground out of the 
 country. And this was done until these financial cor- 
 morants howled for mercy; very much after the manner 
 that Louis XIV. had treated his Surintendent De Foquet, 
 commanding one day a million livres the next two 
 the third THREE until Foquet, though the richest man 
 in France, became a bankrupt, and was clapped into the 
 Bastile for having no more money. 
 
 But even the fermiers generaux were not rich enough 
 to pay the debts of France. 
 
 Then, what to do ? 
 
 The credit of the country was nothing. Billets 
 cTEtat were worth only twenty-five per cent, of their par 
 value. Loans could not be obtained. Besides that, 
 the army threatened to rise en masse. 
 
 Then one fine day very late in the year 1715, Louis 
 de Conti, who had been biding his time, proposed to 
 the Regent, who was now in dire financial straits, to 
 bring Monsieur Lass, the great gambler the great 
 financier from Italy, and see what he could do with a 
 bankrupt country. 
 
 " He has an infernally great mind! " says De Conti 
 in his bluff way to the Regent.
 
 A I'KIM ESS OF PARIS. 167 
 
 "Yes; I have met him before over the pharo table! " 
 laughs D'Orleans. " He was very successful there. 
 He got everybody's money! Don't you think he might 
 get ours? " This last nervously. 
 
 '" Yes, if we had any! " guffaws De Conti. 
 
 "As it \%, parbleu ! what can be worse?" laughs the 
 Regent. Then he suddenly turns savagely on De 
 Confl, muttering: "What have you done with HER ?" 
 
 For during the last six months, engaged in the cares 
 of. State, Philippe d'Orleans, who is a fickle man, has 
 forgotten the radiant beauty he had once sworn by all 
 the powers of France and all the gods of the lower 
 regions should be his very own. 
 
 "Whom does your Highness mean?" returns De 
 Conti; feigning both innocence and ignorance. "You 
 can't refer to Madame de Parabere I saw her in your, 
 anteroom as I came in % " mentioning the name of the 
 present first favorite in the Regent's crowd of fair 
 ones. 
 
 "You know whom I mean!" answers D'Orleans, 
 who is by no means a fool, "that niece of Monsieur 
 Lass. The one I saw but twice the one whom I 
 would have had by my side now, if " 
 
 "If young D'Arnac had not run away with her!" 
 interjects De Conti, cutting off accusation against him- 
 self. "I know to whom you refer now, very well, Sire. 
 She, I believe, was recaptured upon the very night of 
 her elopement, by our friend Lass, who has a longer 
 head than either of us. The lady, I am informed, is at 
 present with him in his Venetian palace." 
 
 "Then," replies the Regent, in eager and excited 
 tones, " let Monsieur Lass be sent for! ' 
 
 "I have already communicated with him!" replies 
 De Conti. "He will come to Paris, provided your 
 Highness gives him safe conduct for his return to Italy 
 in case negotiations do not go to his liking. " 
 
 " Parbleu ! that means he will not bring the girl 
 with him! " snarls D'Orleans, savagely. 
 
 "That I believe is Monsieur Lass' intention at 
 present!" remarks De Conti, struggling with all his 
 court etiquette to prevent a grin. 
 
 So the safe conduct having been given, Monsieur 
 Lass, towards the end of the year 1715, came to Pans,
 
 1 68 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 to find the Due d'Orleans sorely pressed for what is 
 needful, even to princes ready cash; his unpaid 
 soldiers in a terrible state of semi-mutiny, and the 
 people of France on the verge of incipient revolution. 
 
 These facts having been put before the great 
 financier with the hard Scotch brain by the Regent, 
 and his advice being asked, he has answered very 
 promptly : ' ' Pay the army ! " 
 
 "Diable! How, without money ?" 
 
 "Pay first those troops immediately around Paris. 
 They will be a bulwark to your power against others 
 coming from without." 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! How-?" 
 
 " By money advanced by me! On the conclusion of 
 negotiations here, I will lend to you, as Regent of 
 France, two million livres. That will secure you the army 
 in and about Paris. Then on the formation of my bank, 
 I will advance the balance to pay all the other troops 
 in France! " 
 
 "Your bank ?" remarks the Regent. "What 
 BANK ? " 
 
 "The bank of Monsieur Lass, for which I hope your 
 Highness will see fit to give me letters patent, author- 
 izing me to form such a company as I will describe 
 to you, and issue capital stock and bills of credit, 
 which shall be acceptable as payment throughout 
 France! " 
 
 For Lass was a financier in advance of his time, and 
 had discerned his great fact that there was not actual 
 silver and gold enough in the money of the world to do 
 its business; but that paper currency would easily take 
 its place as long as there was credit behind it. That 
 its manufacture was but a matter of printing presses, 
 and that this paper money would be as good as coin as 
 long as people belived in it. 
 
 So he hastily explains his system to the Duke, who 
 asks him what the capital of the bank will be. 
 
 "Six million livres!" 
 
 " Pa'rdi! You are modest! " returns the Regent. 
 
 "Yes, but we may increase the capital afterwards 
 with your Highness' permission," remarks Lass. 
 
 "Very well!" answers D'Orleans. "When your 
 bank is organized send me a few of your first bills.
 
 A I'KINCK.-S OK PARIS. 169 
 
 They will be very convenient just at present at the 
 Palais Royal ! " 
 
 And it was on this insignificant capital began 
 the scheme that was to make France the banking center 
 of Europe, and change it from poverty to unheard of 
 oppulence while it lasted. 
 
 For the plans of Monsieur Lass were so far-reaching 
 that neither he nor I)e Conti dared spring them on the 
 Regent in a moment, as they mbraced not only every 
 colony of France, but France itself, whole and entire, 
 to be made the throne upon which to rear a finan- 
 cial despotism over the world of commerce. 
 
 After a few days' negotiations and pros and cons, and 
 "ifs "and "ands " and "buts, " the bargain is made, and 
 Monsieur Lass is about to depart for Italy to bring back 
 his establishment and take residence in Paris. 
 
 As he takes his leave the Regent remarks to him: 
 "Don't forget to bring mademoiselle, your niece, 
 with you ! " 
 
 " If not, your Highness?" returns Lass, laughing 
 and bowing. 
 
 "Then perhaps I shall forget to sign your charter!" 
 guffaws the Regent, for these two understand each 
 other pretty well by this time. 
 
 But the financier on his return to Paris does not forget 
 to bring Madame Hilda with him, and on the loth of 
 May, 1716, the bank of Monsieur Lass is commenced 
 on the Rue Vivienne in part of the old Palais Mazarin, 
 almost on the site of the present Bourse of to-day. 
 Paper money flows out very rapidly, and the credit of 
 the bank is really good, for they stipulate to pay their 
 bills not in the value of the marks of the time of 
 payment, but in the value of the marks when the-bill 
 is issued, which in the unstable currency of France, at 
 that time, is a very great consideration, for by this a 
 man knows exactly what he is going to receive even if 
 payment is deferred a year. ' 
 
 The paper money floating about the country has 
 made- times at least apparently prosperous. I Jut Law 
 has determined to make tlu-m really so, for beyond this 
 bank is a great and grander scheme', by which tin- 
 colonies of France shall pour the wealth of both tin- \\ < St 
 and East Indies into the lap of the parent nation; as
 
 1 70 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 the Spanish Main and Mexico and Peru had once done, 
 into the bosom of Spain, making her one century before 
 this the richest country on the earth. 
 
 So things have gone on, until the city that Raymond 
 rides into this ist day of November, 1717, has changed 
 from the old feudal stronghold of the Capets into the 
 chrysalis that will become, in the course of two cen- 
 turies, that butterfly of capitals -the Paris of to-day. 
 
 It is a change from the middle ages to the world of 
 modern progress; the arts of war are giving place to the 
 arts of peace ; the boulevards erected as fortifications 
 are now torn down and made into long broad avenues 
 and carriage-ways, shaded by trees and beautified by 
 flowers. 
 
 For the time has come when men can breathe the open 
 air of Heaven and need not to save their lives sleep each 
 night surrounded by walls and battlements; when men 
 can take together the good things of life; when the 
 theatres and the opera and the cafes permit the social 
 intercourse of modern life, and all the fetes and joyance 
 are not confined to the court of the King and the chateaux 
 of the noblesse. 
 
 In fact, Paris, as Raymond d'Arnac looks on it, is 
 beginning to assume the airs of that gay city we of the 
 modern world know and love ; its nobles are already in 
 hose and doublet instead of armor its ladies in silks 
 and satins, the webs of Lyons and Flanders, enjoying 
 sport, and play, and license, and love but underneath 
 the tossing mass of general humanity yet struggles and 
 strives to better itself and become less of the serf and 
 more of the man. 
 
 But the fermiers ge'ne'raux are still at work the 
 serfs still unemancipated. 
 
 Their time is to come three generations later, when 
 amid booming cannons, fire and blood, the Bastile falls, 
 and with it the heads of king and nobility, and a nation 
 goes mad for three years, trying in that short time to 
 right the wrongs of eighteen centuries. 
 
 But Paris does not, on the night Raymond d'Arnac 
 looks at it, anticipate the revolution that came seventy 
 years afterwards; its streets are full of people, gay and 
 happy; its equipages more brilliant and numerous than 
 ever he has seen before ; its crowd of mendicants have
 
 A PRIKCESS oi PARIS. 171 
 
 given way to chattering hucksters and vivacious peddlers 
 plying their trades under the burning oil lamps that 
 have doubled in splendor and number. 
 
 For over this feudal city has conic the one great 
 thing needed to make it a metropolis commercial 
 progress. From a stronghold and a fortress it has 
 become the banking center of Europe. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 DE CONTl's LITTLE JOKE. 
 
 SUCH vivacity in the streets raises the spirits of the 
 young man, and he rides up to his Cousin Charlie's 
 very handsome apartments on the Rue de Nevers in 
 high feather. 
 
 Here he is welcomed effusively by De Moncrief, who 
 cries: "I was expecting you, man general. I am glad 
 you came to me first, as I advised you in my letter. 
 A little dinner with me and we will discuss family 
 matters, and then voila ! the f rst bal de r Opera ! " 
 
 "A ball ? My uncle is very sick! " 
 
 "Oh, yes, sick frightened! But he will live six 
 months a year perhaps bury us both, though he has 
 given up meat in Lent. To-morrow you can see him. 
 To-night, forget all else but the bal de I'O/era, 
 invented by me to give pleasure to the Regent to 
 bring our people more together. 
 
 "Monsieur Lass thinks it well that the heads of 
 commerce and banking should meet the princes of the 
 court, and has suggested that we nobles will be able 
 to borrow more liberally by tapping 'Monsieurs Bour- 
 geoise and Goldsmith upon the shoulder for one evening 
 in the year." 
 
 Which in truth was the original idea of these entertain- 
 ments, the masked bals de I' Opera for which Paris has 
 long been celebrated, and which succeed in no other 
 city as well as they do in the one that gave them birth, 
 for it needs French vivacity, French frivolity, French 
 esprit and French dinHo-ic to make a genuine high-rolling, 
 fun-loving bal de I Opera an emotional suc< <
 
 172 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " Invented by you! " laughs D'Arnac. "Have you 
 taken to dancing again ? " 
 
 " I have always danced," replies De Moncrief, stiffly. 
 Then he babbles on: " How do you like my new apart- 
 ments ? " 
 
 "Magnificent! Astounding!" answers his cousin, 
 who has just come from camp and bivouac. 
 
 As in truth they are, for Monsieur de Moncrief has 
 blossomed out as one of the very great favorites of 
 fortune in this last year. 
 
 " How can you afford it ? " asks Raymond. 
 
 "How? Because, my boy, I am not only the Pro- 
 cureur du Roy, but I am a member of the banking 
 company of Monsieur Lass. Lass, who has paid your 
 salary as General for the last year; Lass, who pays 
 everything; Lass, who takes a piece of paper and says: 
 ' Make that into bank notes for one hundred thousand 
 livres 1 and, presto! it is done." 
 
 "You a banker !" ejaculates Raymond, very much 
 astonished. 
 
 But this is the truth, as Monsieur de Moncrief has 
 kept a very tight clutch upon the Prince de Conti's promise 
 to him, and has hung on to the Regent-De Conti-Lass 
 crowd and done their legal work and any little tender 
 matters that required what to-day would be called "a 
 first-class corporation lawyer's advice," i. e., the power 
 of Reading his clients as close to the gates of a prison as 
 possible and not letting them get in. 
 
 He has performed these various little services for his 
 patrons, with such energy, skill, and general long- 
 headedness, that they have rewarded him with quite a 
 little slice of the stock of the bank of Lass, which 
 having gone up very materially in value, has permitted 
 Monsieur Charles de Moncrief to spend his money so 
 very freely that all the young actresses of the opera 
 and theatre affect to think Charlie has grown very 
 boyish again. 
 
 Then boy Charlie and cousin Raymond sit down to a 
 magnificent dinner, magnificently served, with plenty 
 of lackeys in attendance and wax lights innumerable. 
 
 During this De Moncrief tells his guest: "I have 
 taken quarters for you near my own on the Rue Chris- 
 tine, not of course, as elaborate as these."
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 173 
 
 "No, these would be more fitting for a mare'chal 
 than a general!" remarks D'Arnac contemplatively. 
 
 "Egad! ' I don't believe old De Villars himself could 
 stand the cost of these twenty thousand livres a year! 
 Yours are only five thousand ! " returns De Moncrief, 
 delightedly. 
 
 "Five thousand livres a year for some beggarly 
 rooms ! " cries Raymond aghast. 
 
 " Parbleu ! They are reasonable ! " answers Cousin 
 Charlie, for living was fast becoming extravagant in 
 Paris under the influence of increasing money. 
 
 Then he goes on contemplatively: "Had I landed 
 property, I would be as great a nabob as any of the comtes 
 and mare"chals. " 
 
 To get estates has been the ambition of De 
 Moncrief's life, and he is determined to have them, and 
 those of Crevecoeur are very handsome and extensive 
 ones. 
 
 "Do you know, Raymond, my boy! " he says after a 
 minute's musing, "they are going to marry you off to 
 the little Comtesse Julie de Beaumont when she 
 becomes older ? " 
 
 ' ' Indeed ! " laughs D'Arnac. ' ' I have no objection. " 
 
 "Ah, you remember the child ? " 
 
 "Yes, as a child. When she was ten, five years 
 ago. She said she hated me, because, I believe, our 
 matrimony was the wish of both families then, and little 
 Julie had already begun to cultivate wifely feelings 
 towards me!" sneers Raymond, so easily and uncon- 
 cernedly that De Moncrief writhes in his seat. 
 
 "Well, that's what Crevecceur wants to see you 
 about! " mutters the old schemer. 
 
 Shortly after, dinner being finished, the two sit down 
 together to smoke Virginia tobacco out of long-stemmed 
 clay pipes. 
 
 After a puff or two Monsieur de Moncrief, turning 
 matters over in his mind, suggests : ' ' You must see your 
 ward to-morrow, my dear boy! She will astonish you! ' 
 
 "Ah, the little Quinault! You have noticed her 
 lately ?" 
 
 "Once at Madame de Chateaubrien's, and then she 
 was so charming that I have visited her often since at 
 the convent. She is no longer the little Quinault she
 
 174 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 has grown tall, and of a loveliness that will send you, her 
 guardian, wild with delight." 
 
 And the old gentleman babbles on extolling the beau- 
 ties of this young woman, who is just graduating from 
 childhood, so vividly, that Raymond's eyes begin to 
 sparkle at the charms described to him. So Cousin 
 Charlie chuckles to himself: " Egad! wait till he sees 
 her! Then perhaps he will not be so complaisant in 
 regard to the little Comtesse Julie! " 
 
 This brings a very good humor upon his face as he 
 cries: "Now, Raymond, my boy, run around to your 
 quarters on the Rue Christine! You will find them 
 lighted and awaiting you. Your baggage I have 
 already ordered there. Make your toilet a la general 
 prepare to conquer at the bal de I' Opera, and I will 
 call for you with my carriage at eleven o'clock. " 
 
 Even the first of these fetes was not an early one, 
 though they have become later as the world has rolled on. 
 
 "Ah, you have a long toilette to make yourself!" 
 laughs Raymond, perchance maliciously, as the old 
 gentleman is known to devote much time on such occa- 
 sions in simulating the appearance of boyhood. 
 
 " Tut! tut! an affair of half an hour. But you are 
 a little more vain and will require more time, Monsieur 
 Epaulettes," grunts the Procureur. 
 
 "Very well," says Raymond heartily, "I'll do my 
 best for the honor of the army," and goes away very 
 gayly and buoyantly, as what young man would not 
 after three years of camp life, to array himself for the 
 bal de V Opera, though at present its brilliance is only 
 in D'Arnac's imagination the reality is to come, and 
 with it a meeting, which he has said shall never happen, 
 but which he has always looked forward to. 
 
 Perhaps it is some presentiment of this that comes to 
 him while he is dressing. He is looking carelessly over 
 his baggage in search of a lace handkerchief and ruffles, 
 fine gentlemen. in those days being very vain in these 
 little matters of personal adornment, and wearing as 
 much Point de Venice as any court beauty. 
 
 In doing so, he comes upon a package of letters that 
 bring back to him the past; they are from O'Brien 
 Dillon and Lanty in Vienna, only three of them, 
 postage being high and couriers seldom in those days.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 175 
 
 The first, written by his Irish friend in answer to the one 
 D'Arnac had sent describing his effort to replace 
 Madame O'Brien Dillon in his care. He glances over 
 it and blushes as he reads these words: 
 
 " God thank you for what you have done for me! Though 
 you haven't given her back to me, I imagine she is all right, 
 as they're keeping her in convents. However, I thank you 
 from the bottom of my heart for being so true to our comrade- 
 ship of the sword." 
 
 This has been forwarded to him before Dillon's 
 first campaign against the Turks. 
 
 Another and longer one is in Lanty's handwriting, 
 written on their return .to the Austrian capital from 
 Eugene's glorious campaign of Peterawaradin, in which 
 he has defeated the Ottoman forces. It runs along in 
 merry Lanty's light-hearted way, describing the 
 wondrous plunder they have got. One sentence sets 
 Raymond laughing. It says: 
 
 " As for booty, it is so much that me master speaks of getting 
 back to Paris to look up Madame O'Brien Dillon. He is a 
 general now, and, faith, he's so much run after that if it wasn't 
 that he is already bound by the priest to the woman in France, 
 I think he might be after marrying a royal duchess, and as for 
 countesses, he might have a harem of them if he choose, after 
 the manner of the heathen Turks." 
 
 The last letter, but six months before, had met 
 D'Arnac just before he left the Pyrenees, for epistles 
 took longer in these days to come from Vienna than 
 they would to go round the world now, ends: 
 
 "One campaign'more and I hope to have plunder enough 
 to come back and clasp your hand and look after the madame, 
 if the Turks don't get away with your friend. 
 
 " O'BRIEN DILLON." 
 
 Pondering on this matter, Raymond thinks there 
 should be an epistle from him even now, for the Turkish 
 
 campaign of the year must be ended. 
 
 I'-ut from this IK- gets to meditating upon O'Brien 
 Dillon's wife, and the rare loveliness that had sal 
 beside him in the carriage in that wild ride out of Pans 
 the last time he had been in the capital :
 
 176 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " If Lass, her uncle, is here, she should be in Paris 
 also." 
 
 His thoughts are broken in upon by the footman of 
 Monsieur le Procureur coming upstairs and announcing 
 that his master is at the door in his carriage, and begs 
 his cousin will not keep him waiting in the cold. 
 
 Raymond hurries down to take his place beside 
 his relative, who is cloaked and furred up to his very 
 eyes. 
 
 As they drive away, De Moncrief directing his coach- 
 man to take the Quai de Conti and to cross the river 
 by the Pont Royal, and so avoid the great crowd of 
 carriages that will be coming from the city pfoper 
 along the Rue St. Honore, Raymond suddenly queries: 
 " You are intimate with Monsieur Lass ? " 
 
 "Certainly; I know him very well. A man of the 
 greatest financial genius the longest head in the 
 whole world, I think. Egad ! money seems to spring 
 from his brain as easily as ideas! " remarks De Moncrief, 
 and means it, for he has been very much impressed 
 with the Scotch financier's genius and tremendous 
 grasp of commercial affairs. 
 
 , " You are intimate at his house as well as his bank ? " 
 suggests Raymond. 
 
 "Certainly, as a man of rank 1 have thought it best to 
 give Lass the countenance of my presence socially," 
 replies the Procureur. 
 
 "Then have you ever chanced to meet his niece, 
 Madame O'Brien Dillon ? " 
 
 At which Cousin Charlie, to Raymond's embarrass- 
 ment, giggles : "I thought young Wild Blood was coming 
 to that! Pardieu ! you mean the young lady who got you 
 into all that trouble when you were here last. Sapristi ! 
 De Conti hates you still; and as for the Regent " 
 Here he checks himself with a gulp. 
 
 "The Regent what of him ? " 
 
 "Oh, nothing, but he admires pretty faces as well as 
 you," answers De Moncrief. 
 
 "Yes, Madame de Sabran's I have heard," returns 
 Raymond, mentioning the name of a lady about whose 
 beauty Paris was beginning to rave, and to whom was 
 attributed by public rumor the doubtful honor of being 
 the Due d'Orleans' latest belle amte."
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 177 
 
 " Madame de Sabran ! " ejaculates Cousin Charlie, a 
 kind of unholy glee coming into his sharp eyes. 
 
 "Of course, the divine Madame de Sabran; the one 
 every man is charmed by and every woman envious of. 
 Poor De Courcy, of my command, came back to the 
 Pyrenees in love with her, though he had only seen her 
 in her carriage. Perhaps she will be at the ball point 
 her out tome, "gossips Raymond contentedly. 
 
 "Madame de Sabran! " mutters De Moncrief, " yes, 
 perchance we'll see her at the ball, "then buries his face 
 in his fur cloak as if trying to stifle some hysterical 
 emotion. A moment after he says suddenly and seriously : 
 " I'm sorry my advice got you into that escapade with 
 pretty Madame Dillon ; still I would have done the like 
 for a friend myself, though your motives were grossly 
 misunderstood." 
 
 After a second's silence, D'Arnac, whose mind has 
 got now to running on his friend, asks suddenly: "Is 
 there any news from the Danube ? " 
 
 "From Prince Eugene?" says the Procureur 
 "The greatest!" Then he goes on earnestly under 
 his breath: " Not a word of this, for it is being kept 
 very quiet for financial reasons by Monsieur Lass and 
 myself. A courier from Vienna has just brought private 
 intelligence that Prince Eugene has annihilated the 
 Turkish hosts before Belgrade, and captured that city 
 the greatest victory Christendom has ever had over the 
 Ottoman! They are now suing wildly for peace." 
 
 "And my friend, O'Brien Dillon?" asks D'Arnac, 
 hastily. 
 
 " There was no further details, save that the Austrian 
 losses were very heavy, as the courier that reached 
 Vienna was nearly a month getting there. The roads 
 were awful and infested by skirmishing parties of light 
 Tartar horse the Turks had thrown out in advance all 
 over the country. Don't say a word of this it is still 
 private! I doubt even if the Ottoman Ambassador 
 knows of the misfortune of his country. But here we 
 are at the Palais Royal. Put your head out of the 
 carriage look at the crowds the excitement the 
 flambeaux of the footmen is it not glorious ? I and 
 Lass have been the making of Paris!" remarks De- 
 Moncrief, with a very self-satisfied air.
 
 178 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 Thinking to himself, if Eugene has been victorious, 
 probably O'Brien Dillon is all right, D'Arnac obeys his 
 relative's instructions, and sees a sight the like of which 
 has never been seen in the capital of France before, 
 though many similar ones will come after the nobles 
 and bourgeoisie mixed in common fete. 
 
 They are at the corner of the Rues St. Thomas du 
 Louvre and St. Honore and are meeting the great string 
 of equipages coming along the latter thoroughfare 
 towards the Palais Royal, the facade of which is illu- 
 minated for the occasion. 
 
 This Palais Royal is a building of magnificent dimen- 
 sions, built by the great Richelieu, not only for his 
 own home, but also for the home of dramatic art. 
 
 It is an edifice of wonderful extent, but rambling, and 
 of unequal height at different places ; over the grand 
 entrance it is but two stories in elevation, but rises three 
 more in the form of a great mansard roof over the 
 theatre that is now used as the home of the opera. 
 
 The front of the pile is on the Rue St. Honore, 
 running the entire distance between the street called 
 Des Bonnes Enfants and the Rue Richelieu. Along 
 these two streets it runs back to magnificent gardens 
 formed for the pleasure of the Cardinal. Like its 
 founder's mind, the building is grandly enormous. 
 
 Two theatres a small one holding but six hundred 
 people, for private representations before the court 
 a larger one capable of seating over three thousand, 
 for the delectation of the more general public, by 
 his comedians of the Comedie Franfaise, are swal- 
 lowed up and veritably almost lost in the grand pile of 
 buildings, without apparently intrenching upon their 
 numerous suites of magnificent apartments and great 
 courtyards for sunshine and pleasure, for Armand de 
 Richelieu never did anything meanly, and his great 
 building, called by him the "Palais Cardinal," was 
 worthy of his grandeur and his power. 
 
 The great theatre of the building, originally devoted 
 to the Comedie Frain;aise, is now known as "The 
 Opera." It is to the entrance of this, on" the 
 corner of the Rue St. Honore and the Rue des 
 Bonnes Enfants, to which the carriage of Charles de 
 Moncrief is being driven, though it does not arrive
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 179 
 
 there for some considerable time, as the line of 
 carriages ahead of it is very long. 
 
 But Raymond hardly notices the delay, the sight 
 before him is so novel. Dashing equipages of 
 the court are mixed with the humbler carriages 
 of rich silversmiths and bourgeoisie, who now- 
 dare to put on the evidences of wealth. These, 
 surrounded by lackeys and flunkeys carrying blazing 
 torches, and the brilliant feu de joie in wax lights on 
 the facade of the theatre, all give vivacity, interest 
 and illumination to the scene. 
 
 Engaged in looking at this, even as he leaves the 
 carriage, Raymond scarce notices his companion until 
 they arrive in one of the waiting-rooms. Here, 
 surrounded by various others in fancy costumes, who 
 are doffing their wraps and robes, for the night is 
 chilly, D'Arnac first turns his eyes on the old Procur- 
 eur du Roy, and for the life of him cannot help giving 
 a wild scream of laughter and falling, overcome, into a 
 neighboring chair. 
 
 For, as his furs have been taken off, Charles de 
 Mncrief, in all the decrepitude of age, steps out of his 
 wraps, his wig tied up in bows of pink silk ribbons, his 
 toothless mouth grinning with pleasure, his wrinkled 
 cheeks contorted into what he thinks a boyish smile, his 
 senile body attired in flesh-colored tights and shaking 
 a pair of tiny silver wings, and holding up a little bow 
 and arrows, takes infant pose upon the floor and cries: 
 "Behold me, Cupid God of Youth and Love!" trying 
 to look as cunning as the imp himself. 
 
 The effect is enormous and general, the gentlemen 
 standing by fairly shrieking with merriment. 
 
 " Diable! what amuses you ? " mutters the Procureur, 
 his face under its paint and powder assuming so wizened 
 and vindictive an expression that it adds to the merri- 
 ment, especially as he gives one or two skips of rage, 
 which make his little wings flap fairylike in the air. 
 
 " Mon Diei<!" shouts De Conti, who has just come 
 in with his pal, the Due de Guiche and Monsieur 
 d'Argenson, now raised to the office of Keeper of the 
 Seals, behind them. 
 
 " By the soul of Bacchus, if this is not little De Mon- 
 crief! Cupid fair Cupid?" he cries, and as wine has
 
 I So A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 made him forget his rank, and he rejoices in great 
 animal strength, this prince of the blood takes up little 
 Charlie, and tossing him on his shoulder, dances round 
 the room, crying: "Old Cupid and young Venus!" 
 nursing him after the manner of a baby, and going 
 through several other grotesque antics, as the crowd of 
 nobles hold their sides with merriment, and even 
 Monsieur Peltier, the silversmith, who has come timidly 
 into the ball, dares to laugh at the joke of one of the 
 princes of the blood. 
 
 A moment after, De Moncrief is let down from the 
 arms of his tormenter, .and he scowls no more, laughing 
 himself at the Prince de Conti's joke. 
 
 But for all that, Louis Armand de Bourbon, prince of 
 the house of Conti, has danced a very bad pas seul for 
 himself, this evening, though he doesn't know it; and 
 Monsieur d'Argenson, proud in his new rank, by his 
 jeers and laughter has done a very bad turn for himself, 
 and had better if he but guessed it as he is yet the 
 Lieutenant General de Police, abduct, imprison, and 
 close out from the light of day, Charles de Moncrief, 
 the Procureur du Roy, for Cupid has no longer love in 
 his soul but hate, malignant hate for these two merry 
 gentlemen though he will try and forget it in the 
 bright eyes and playful flatteries of the ladies of the 
 bal de r Opera this evening. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE FIRST BAL DE L'OPERA. 
 
 As IT TAKES some time for Cousin Charlie to re-arrange 
 his wings and smooth his locks that are tied by deli- 
 cate pink ribbon, the prince of the blood and most of 
 the surrounding crowd stroll into the main portion of 
 the theatre, while Raymond stands waiting for Cupid to 
 regain his charms. 
 
 Then together they enter the great auditorium, which 
 has been floored over from the stage and made into a 
 vast ballroom, De Moncrief laughing and passing off 
 the affair, saying: " Pardieu ! Cousin, probably 1 am 
 the only man in Paris De Conti would feel sufficiently
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. l8l 
 
 intimate with to take such liberties. It is not every 
 one a prince of the blood would do duty for as a 
 carrier ! " and similar other remarks expressive of his 
 delight at the performance of the wild, boisterous and 
 wine-filled De Conti. 
 
 But the sight opening before Raymond makes him 
 hardly heed the words of any one. It is as if he had 
 come into a new and enchanted land. 
 
 The two rows of boxes are draped and adorned in 
 various colors and most fanciful designs. The superb 
 ceiling covered with groups of angels and goddesses, 
 by the hand of Monsieur Watteau, is made more brilliant 
 by the flags of France. The whole scene is lighted as 
 if it were day by innumerable wax tapers kept burning 
 brightly by one hundred flunkeys with trays and snuffers. 
 
 Underneath this illumination, a sea of figures, 
 costumed perhaps not so correctly as to-day, because 
 even the dress of the theatre proper was at this time 
 incomplete, and sometimes Jupiter or Julius Caesar 
 were played by gentlemen in knee breeches and perri- 
 wigs, while Cleopatra hesitated not to appear arrayed 
 in hoop skirt and demi- train. 
 
 For all that, the dashing crowd makes a great show 
 of color, of kaleidoscopic rapidity of movement, but with 
 more than the beauty of the kaleidoscope, because within 
 this sea of changing hues are the bright faces of lovely 
 women and the handsome figures of dashing men. 
 
 There is a great display in the costumes of Watteau ; 
 shepherdesses with their crooks, and gods and goddesses 
 in silk fleshings and the armor of ancient Greece, 
 Cupid and Venus and Jupiter and Apollo being great 
 favorites in all the ballets of that time. 
 
 Most of them are circling in the dance, not the wild 
 can-can of to-day, to the sprightly yet voluptuous music 
 of Offenbach, but in the stately menuet de la coitr, to 
 the soft numbers of Luilli and Mouret, from a band that 
 gives forth its melodies with the strings of Cremona, 
 the harps of minstrelsy, the lutes and soft wood- 
 wind instruments that belonged to the orchestras of 
 that day. 
 
 At first, Raymond's eyes devour this great scene as a 
 whole then individually and in groups, as the Procureur 
 du Roy, anxious to show his knowledge of every one
 
 1 82 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 notable in France, begins to point out celebrities. 
 They have strolled half round the room when he 
 suddenly seizes D'Arnac's arm and says: "There! do 
 you see him ? " 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Monsieur Lass! " 
 
 "No! where?" whispers Raymond, anxious to see 
 the "Uncle Johnny" of his friend O'Brien Dillon. 
 
 "There! The tall distinguished man with the sharp 
 nose and handsome figure and bright eyes. The one 
 standing in the Regent's box alongside of Monsieur 
 d'Orleans!" 
 
 Raymond knows the Regent by sight, and looking 
 towards the large box which has the arms of France 
 upon it, he sees standing beside the man who holds 
 the destinies of the country in his hands, the man 
 who is destined to hold the finances of Europe within 
 his grasp. 
 
 "Uncle Johnny" is, as De Moncrief has described 
 him, tall, with very handsome eyes, prominent nose, 
 thin but determined lips, and the brow of a mathema- 
 tician. He has the face of a man who might have 
 invented the binomial theorem or the calculus, were it 
 not the face of a man who would not be contented to 
 starve over pure mathematics in a garret, but rather 
 one who loves the luxuries of life the excitement of 
 play and the grand battle of humanity. 
 
 He is standing just behind the Regent. Before him, 
 as their rank give them precedence, but at his right, 
 lounge the Princes De Conde and De Conti, cousins 
 of France, but rivals in getting all they can out of France, 
 and both very anxious to make themselves agreeable to 
 Monsieur Lass, whom they have already utilized much 
 to the benefit of their depleted purses. 
 
 All the gentlemen are chuckling over De Conti's 
 description of what he has done with little Moncrief the 
 Cupid. 
 
 ' ' Morbleu ! " remarks the Prince. ' ' Even old Peltier, 
 the silversmith, could not refrain from having his grin 
 at Monsieur le Procureur. This is a very fine idea 
 of yours, Monsieur Lass this mixture of the rabble 
 and the nobles. It may give me a better grip at old 
 Silversmith's purse, if I smack him on the shoulder. He
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 183 
 
 is walking over there." Arid he strolls off in pursuit of 
 poor old Peltier upon whom he proposes to throw the 
 light of his semi-royal countenance, in order to touch 
 him for as large a loan as possible. 
 
 This leaves Monsieur Lass with D'Orleans and De 
 Conde". 
 
 His Highness is pleased to be very affable this even- 
 ing. He says lightly: " Cond6, where is Madame la 
 Princess ? " 
 
 " Parbleu, your Highness, she is at home with the 
 children!" replies that Prince. "This is hardly the 
 proper place for my wife." 
 
 "Especially," chuckles D'Orleans, "as I see Madame 
 de Prie ogling you from the box opposite." 
 
 "Ah, Madeline there! I didn't suppose she was 
 coming so early. Then if your Highness will permit I'll 
 take my leave! " 
 
 "Yes, till supper. Don't forget, Conde", bring De 
 Prie with you ! You, Monsieur Lass, I hope, will join 
 us also, with any lady you please." 
 
 "Thanks, your Highness, " replies the financier, "I 
 will bring with me, with your permission, Madame de 
 Locmaria. " 
 
 " Delighted! " remarks D'Orleans. "There will be 
 but a few more. After supper we will have a little play 
 with the markers you have so kindly invented to save 
 us gamblers the trouble of counting money. I have 
 already invited Madame de Sabran ; without her our 
 feast would be indeed a famine ! " and the Regent's eyes 
 light up with passion. 
 
 "Yes, Hilda told me!" assents Lass. Then he 
 suddenly says: "In regard to that Moncrief matter? 
 This affair will make him surely, if I judge him 
 right, De Conti's enemy that probably means our 
 enemy and we want all to be our friends now, your 
 Highness! " adds Lass quite seriously. 
 
 "Pooh! I'll fix Moncrief! " laughs D'Orleans. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "I'll invite him to supper with me to-night. An 
 invitation from the Regent will please his pride more 
 than De Conti's joke hurt it; eh, my financier!" 
 
 ' ' It will make our little Moncrief love you as his God ! " 
 whispers Lass.
 
 184 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "Better than his God, 1 hope!" jeers the Duke, 
 "otherwise I shall be no great favorite of my 
 Procureur! But come on the floor, Lass, the ladies 
 and gentlemen down there are all hoping you will make 
 them rich! " 
 
 After one good look Raymond has not paid much 
 attention to the royal box. Some very pretty young 
 ladies have intruded themselves on General Epaulettes, 
 as they call him, and he is at present dancing a minuet 
 with a sprightly Watteau shepherdess. The young 
 Comte de Horn, a weary look on his dissipated face, 
 is at his right with a beautiful, but half nude Venus, 
 while immediately opposite to him De Moncrief, as 
 Cupid, is skipping grotesquely in company with the 
 dashing danseuse la belle Prevost. 
 
 Everybody is warming to the scene. 
 
 The dance goes on, but wilder; flirtations spring up 
 and champagne changes them to love. 
 
 The ball becomes gayer .and madder, for wine is now 
 making bright eyes look brighter, and merry laughs 
 louder, and dashing steps more audacious, and the 
 affair is gradually reaching the elan and carnival of a 
 true bal de f Opera when Raymond, bidding adieu to his 
 partner of the dance, chances to glance at one of the 
 boxes of the first row and sees a lady who, though she 
 is masked, brings him recollection. 
 
 Perchance it is her glance that has drawn his, for 
 while he has been dancing this lady, cloaked, hooded, 
 masked and dominoed, has been gazing at him as if he 
 were the one man of the ball; perhaps it is something in 
 her figure some trick of gesture but he remembers. 
 
 Champagne effaces resolution. He thinks now but 
 of love and joy. It may not be she, but he does not 
 care she is certainly beautiful the privilege of a mask 
 why not take it ? 
 
 He is at the staircase in a moment jostling his way 
 through the crowd, but gaining the box, he finds it 
 empty. 
 
 A domino is vanishing into a neighboring loge. 
 
 After it! 
 
 A couple of lackeys attempt to stay him. He 
 does not note their royal liveries, and, pushing them 
 aside, steps into the royal box of France, to find himself
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 185 
 
 confronted by a lady, who, apparently safe from intru- 
 sion, has just thrown away her domino and mask. 
 
 To her he gasps: " Madame O'Mrien Dillon! " 
 
 " Hush ! " Her taper finger is on her red lips. She 
 whispers: "Not Madame ( )'Brien Dillon now. Hilda 
 to you. I cannot talk to you now but I remember." 
 
 Her words are flashing as her beauty, which dazzles 
 him, for she is in a costume that makes her too lovely 
 for the eyes of man to look on sentiently. She seems 
 to Raymond's fascinated senses a thing that is not of 
 this world her beauty is too spiritual. 
 
 Her dress is white that floats about her yet clings to 
 her and shows that she who was a Hebe has now 
 become a Venus. One little foot in white silken 
 stocking and satin slipper is advanced towards him. 
 One white arm on which are flashing diamonds of 
 purest water and brightest rays is stretched to him. A 
 single ruby red as blood flames on her snowy breast, 
 but it is not as red as lips which speak these words: 
 " I have your address I have just discovered your ar- 
 rival in Paris you have been kept from me by those 
 who have more power than I a note to-morrow ! " 
 
 " No, no! " he gasps hoarsely. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "My friend " 
 
 "That need not come between us. He no longer 
 lives! " 
 
 "O'Brien Dillon dead?" 
 
 " Yes. He fell at the battle of Belgrade. I have 
 had sure news from a trusted agent in Vienna. There 
 is no doubt. Don't let the dead efface the living! " 
 
 He tries to struggle against her charm, but the wild 
 beauty is the same as that he clasped to his heart three 
 years before as he rode mid the raging torrent of the 
 Marne. 
 
 " Don't let the dead efface the living a note to-mor- 
 row! Don't speak of me as Madame O'Brien Dillon. 
 Don't whisper you have seen me, for I am now known." 
 She glides to the entrance and opens a portftre, leading 
 not to the ballroom, but direct to the Regent's Palace. 
 
 The young man steps towards her as if to bar her 
 way, his (laming eyes speaking words his lips cannot 
 bring themselves to utter.
 
 186 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 She courtesies to him and whispers: "Yes; do not 
 hate me. They compelled me ambition dictated it! 
 I am now known as Madame deSabran. A .note to-mor- 
 row ! ' ' 
 
 At the word Raymond sinks, overcome in the box, 
 for it is the name of the wondrous beauty who, rumor 
 says, holds France almost in her hand, for she has its 
 Regent's heart. He mutters to himself: "This was 
 what they kept her for. This is why they dare not let 
 O'Brien Dillon come to Paris. This is the bait by 
 which Monsieur Lass has bought the Regent's favor 
 and the right to govern the finances of France." 
 
 A moment after these two shocks drive the wine from 
 his brain. He leaves the royal box murmuring: " My 
 God! my friend, dead killed by the Turks! " brushing 
 past the Procureur du Roy, whom he scarce notices, 
 such is his agitation, but who regards his departing cousin 
 with a cynical and snickering smile. 
 
 Then a set look comes on D'Arnac's face as he gazes 
 upon the ballroom floor, and says: " There is an 
 accursed Ottoman now! " for he thinks he sees the 
 Ambassador of the Sublime Porte, as a creature robed in 
 the costume of a Turkish vizier, sparkling with jewels, 
 with scimeter and dagger blazing with diamonds, 
 attended by a gigantic Nubian slave, and followed by a 
 couple of mutes, is passing in triumph up the room, and 
 every one is gazing at his haughty bearing and savage 
 mien. 
 
 "Why not pick a quarrel with this representative of 
 the Infidel and avenge my friend ? " thinks D'Arnac, 
 impetuously, and hurriedly descends to the floor, there 
 to be astounded, the very soul taken out of him with 
 intense surprise, rapture, astonishment, for as he walks 
 threateningly up to the gorgeous figure, a genuine Irish 
 brogue greets him: "By me soul, Raymond, me boy! 
 Begorra, I've come back both general and count from 
 the Turks! " 
 
 And he sees standing before him his old comrade of 
 the Rhine campaign the man who had saved his life 
 the husband of the woman who has just said to him : 
 "A note to-morrow ! " O'Brien Dillon, once colonel in 
 the army of France, but now count of the Empire and 
 general in the Austrian service.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 187 
 
 " By me soul, Lanty, me boy, is not this a glorious 
 coming home ? First, me friend, and then soon I'll 
 have me wife ! These diamonds are genuine, Raymond, 
 me boy plunder from the Turks ! Faith, I captured 
 the Grand Vizier myself a ransom of eighty thousand 
 ducats, and by Saint Patrick! I've got the Horse-tails 
 the genuine article taken in front of the Vizier's 
 pavilion. Wave the Horse-tails, Lanty, ye divil, and 
 show the French they're the real thing." 
 
 With wild cries of triumph Lanty waves the five 
 Horse-tails of the Grand Vizier of the Turkish Empire, 
 and these are proved to be genuine, for the Ottoman 
 Ambassador himself, seeing the sacred insignia of 
 the Sublime Porte the thing only granted to the 
 commanders of the armies of the Allah, comes up, 
 thinking it is some great countryman of his perhaps 
 some successor sent to take his place; for in those days 
 of long travel, sometimes instructions were not sent in 
 advance to ministers or plenipotentiaries. 
 
 Beholding the signal of the power of Mahomet waving 
 in triumph, as he thinks, and not having heard news of 
 the awful fate of the armies of his faith, he cries: "Bish- 
 mael ! Allah be praised ! It means the victory of the 
 Ottoman ! " 
 
 And forgetting the place, he makes obeisance and 
 does homage before it, until Lanty gives a wild shriek, 
 crying : " Yes, victory of the Christians ! Those 
 Horse-tails I seized from the Vizier himself ! It means 
 the Turks have lost one hundred thousand men, and 
 have been beaten out of their very harems by Prince 
 Eugene of Savoy, when he captured Belgrade ! " 
 
 At this sudden and fearful disclosure of his country's 
 downfall and terrible military disaster, the Turkish 
 Ambassador, with a hoarse cry of horror and despair, 
 flies from the room amid the laughter of the gods 
 and goddesses and nymphs and shepherdesses of 
 the bal de /'O/>era, who now go to dancing a wild 
 sanibande that does duty in that clay for the can-can of 
 Mabille. 
 
 " By Saint Patrick! he's not the first Turk that has 
 fled before us, eh Lanty ? " laughs O'Brien. 
 
 "Musha! I'm accustomed to seeing the beasts' 
 backs," grins Lanty. " If it were not for the meddling
 
 1 88 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 police outside, I would follow the unbeliever and plunder 
 him of his diamonds, from very force of habit." 
 
 "I've done well, haven't I, my boy ?" says .Dillon, 
 turning to D'Arnac, who is still speechless from 
 the shock of astonishment caused by the return of this 
 man, his old friend and comrade, whose wife has but 
 three minutes before whispered in his ear: "A note 
 to-morrow! " 
 
 " Well ? " echoes Raymond, forced to speech, " Enor- 
 mous! " gazing in admiration at Eastern garments 
 studded with magnificent jewels, and a turban that 
 literally blazes with diamonds in the form of a great 
 crescent and lesser star. Then a sudden thought flies 
 through him: "Thank God, I can still look my friend 
 in the face! " and D'Arnac springs forward to seize the 
 outstretched hand of his comrade of the sword, and 
 receive his grip of welcome. 
 
 " Faith, I captured the Grand Vizier myself, and with 
 my own hands tore off this magnificent uniform, " laughs 
 O'Brien ; and would enter into an extended conversa- 
 tion with his friend did not at this moment a crowd of 
 pretty young goddesses surge round them, and force 
 them apart, crying: "Hurrah! for a dance with the 
 Diamond Pasha! " 
 
 "I always accommodate ladies. It's an Irishman's 
 habit, even in Turkish garb me little odalisques!" 
 replies Dillon, and gives each one of the beseeching 
 fair ones a step or two on his stalwart arm. 
 
 But getting away from these, he puts his hand upon 
 D'Arnac's shoulder in such a brotherly way, that the 
 young man's conscience pricks him very hard, and says: 
 "I have got ' lots to tell you, Raymond, me boy. 
 Supposing we go home together, so I can do it over a 
 pipe." 
 
 D'Arnac assenting to this, as the ball is now draw- 
 ing to its close, the two make preparations for 
 departure, Raymond insisting that his friend and old 
 comrade shall make his quarters with him in the Rue 
 Christine. 
 
 "Agreed; Lanty will look after getting my baggage 
 from our inn. We only arrived in town this evening, 
 just in time to display our fine selves. I thought I'd 
 find you here, if you were in Paris. Those two fellows
 
 A PRINCESS ()K I'AklS. 189 
 
 dressed as mutes, ^foljpw.igg behind me, are a couple of 
 gardens I hired for the occasion, to give me greater 
 dignity, and by Saint Patrick! I think Lanty and 1 have 
 made a sensation!" 
 
 As indeed they have, a crowd following them every- 
 where. 
 
 ' ' I will be with you in a moment ! " .answers Raymond. 
 "Just a word to my cousin," and departs in search of 
 De Moncrief, to find Cupid in most happy mood, the 
 fire of social triumph in his twinkling eyes. 
 
 " I am glad you can get home without me," remarks 
 Cousin Charlie, "as I have received a most pressing 
 invitation to sup with the Regent. Royal invitations 
 must be accepted. D'Orleans made it a personal 
 matter with me. That is your friend, Colonel O'Brien 
 Dillon, just returned, rumor says, from Vienna and the 
 battle of Belgrade ? " he whispers, inquiringly, fight- 
 ing down a chuckle as he looks at the Irish officer, 
 who is still strutting about and making great display 
 of himself to the throng that have followed him even to 
 the door of the ball room. 
 
 "General Dillon, Comte of the Empire," corrects 
 Raymond, who feels proud of his friend's success. 
 
 "Humph! a general and a count with lots of 
 diamonds and plunder I observe,'' returns De Moncrief. 
 
 "Any quantity of them. He captured the Grand 
 Vizier himself, " cries D' Arnac, proudly, and goes away to 
 take the arm of Comte Dillon of the Imperial service. 
 
 Whereupon the two, going out of the theatre, succeed, 
 by Lanty's aid, in getting hold of a carriage, and 
 drive off to Raymond's apartments to finish the night 
 over their pipes, in discussing O'Brien's triumphs and 
 adventures in Vienna and among the Turks. 
 
 De Moncrief gazes after them. His cynical mind 
 puts together the interview he knows his cousin has had 
 with the Irish officer's wife in the box, the last words of 
 which he had caught: "A note to-morrow' 
 
 Then, for he has been studying the face of the Count 
 of the Empire, he chuckles to hiinsdf: " /'<f /<//>//, he 
 has the look of one whose sword will defend his honor 
 as a husband. He has come back with a title and 
 rich enough to make a pretty good fight for his rights 
 over the last belle amie of the Regent. Egad! Monsieur
 
 190 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 le Comte Dillon's advent into Paris will bring rare joy 
 to Monsieur d 'Orleans, and I doubt not, my dear cousin 
 Raymond d'Arnac, whose eyes spake love, if eyes ever 
 spake it, to the woman who fascinates us all," for 
 Cousin Charlie himself is still captive to the delightful 
 vivaciousness, the brilliant spirit and the entrancing 
 loveliness of the lady now called Madame de Sabran. 
 
 Occupied with these ideas, Cupid, emitting sarcastic 
 chuckles and malicious giggles, makes his way to the 
 royal box, and from there is ushered through the private 
 passage into the Palais Royal itself, and the private 
 supper room of the Regent of France. 
 
 Here he finds the fun is not all on Cupid's side. 
 
 These affairs are very informal, D'Orleans him- 
 self tossing away his rank for the time being. They 
 are regal in nothing save magnificent cuisine and glori- 
 ous wines, beautiful women and gay men. A kind of 
 aristocratic bohemianism is thrown over them; every 
 one doing as he pleases to get every enjoyment of the 
 senses the devil suggests. 
 
 De Conti is one' of the party, and has added more wine 
 during the ball to his bizarre brain. He is telling with 
 great gusto pretty Madeline de Prie, the Marquis de 
 Lassa, the sylph-like beauty, De Verue, and Madame 
 de Sabran, of his joke on senile Cupid, and they are all 
 laughing very heartily. 
 
 As De Moncrief enters crying: " Behold Cupid him- 
 self!" De Conti falls upon him and goes through his 
 previous performance with him, with even more 
 outrageous gambols; finally dropping the struggling, 
 writhing, decrepit old imp of love into the lap of the 
 beauteous De Sabran, screaming: "Who would think 
 this Venus the mother of that Cupid ? Mythology is a lie ! " 
 
 This frightful contrast makes them all very merry, 
 Hilda laughing till the tears are in her eyes. 
 
 Lying thus, his wrinkled head pillowed on her white 
 bosom, Cousin Charlie concludes to take all the advan- 
 tage of the situation possible, and throwing himself into 
 the affair, embraces lovely Hilda, crying: "Mamma's 
 kisses! mamma's kisses! " and his wizened lips press 
 the cheek of beauty. 
 
 But Venus, not relishing his senile attentions, takes 
 up the laugh, and crying: "Cupid's naughty! Cupid's
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. tgi 
 
 naughty! " boxes his old ears till Charlie writhes with 
 shame and anguish. At which the whole party burst 
 into more uproarious laughter; and Ue Moncrief, 
 though he loves, in his way, Hilda de Sabran, hates IHT 
 also, and makes up his mind for a revenge fantastic. 
 
 But this is yet to come. 
 
 The Regent is announced, and Monsieur Lass and 
 Madame de Locmaria entering, they all sit down to 
 supper, and have a very merry time of it. 
 
 Though Cousin Charlie laughs as loudly as any, his 
 mind is occupied with Cupid's vengeance, of which a 
 little thing that now happens makes him feel certain. 
 
 During the conversation at the table, the -Regent 
 remarks to Monsieur Lass: "Have you heard any 
 further news from Vienna ? " 
 
 " No, " replies the Scotchman, "though there was a 
 rumor in the ball, but a few minutes ago, that some 
 Count of the Austrian Empire had arrived." 
 
 "You did not see the gentleman, Monsieur de 
 Moncrief ? " says D'Orleans carelessly ? " 
 
 " Ma foi ! not I! " answers the Procureur. "I was 
 too much occupied with wood nymphs to bother my 
 head about Austrians or Turks! " 
 
 As he says this, he glances at la Sabran and notes, 
 though she hears, no uneasiness has come to her, and he 
 knows her husband's return is still to her unknown. 
 
 So after a little he leaves the supper party apparently 
 in very good spirits, and very proud of having been 
 invited to the private table of the Regent of France. 
 
 But on his way home he is saying to himself: " Here's 
 a pretty kettle of fish for Monsieur Lass, the Due 
 d'Orleans, my Cousin Raymond, the Irish Count, and 
 Venus who boxed her Cupid's ears a note to-morrow ! 
 To-morrow CUPID'S REVENGE!" And the god of love's 
 fairy wings rustle as he goes into convulsive chuckles of 
 malignant hate. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 "A NOTE TO-MORROW !" 
 
 FORTUNATELY for Cousin Charlie, the parties 
 mentioned in his last remark know nothing of what he 
 is to bring upon them.
 
 IQ2 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 The supper party at the Palais Royal goes on more 
 merrily after he has. left it, D'Orleans basking in the 
 smiles of the beautiful Sabran, until Madame de Para- 
 bere, who has joined the company in spite of her sulks, 
 sheds tears of jealous disappointment, which she 
 conceals in a lace handkerchief, saying the pepper on 
 the salad affects her eyes. 
 
 De Conti and De Conde, De Guiche and De Lassa 
 dance a wild sarabande with impromptu frolics between, 
 to the music of a small orchestra brought in for the 
 occasion, De Conti crying wildly: "Oh, if we only 
 had Cupid here now!" Which indicates that it is just 
 as well for Monsieur de Moncrief's dignity that Cupid 
 has left the supper party. 
 
 At the same hour that this is going on, Raymond 
 d'Arnac and Count Dillon are seated over their pipes, 
 in the former's apartments on the Rue Christine, talk- 
 ing over what has happened to them since they clasped 
 hands and bid each other adieu in the town of Rastadt, 
 some three years before. 
 
 Raymond has but little to tell, save the routine of 
 frontier garrisons on the Pyrenees. 
 
 Dillon's stories are those of gay life in Vienna, and 
 two dashing and successful campaigns against the 
 Turks. 
 
 " All the time," he says, "I was fighting not only 
 for glory, but for plunder enough to bring me back 
 here. And thank the Virgin ! at last I got it, at 
 Belgrade. I had had some pretty pickings before, but 
 the booty of that great battle was the making of me. 
 It was like the great siege that learned people tell about 
 in ' Julius Caesar. ' A town heavily garrisoned. Round 
 it the army of Prince Eugene sixty thousand strong. 
 Outside the great host of the Turks three hundred 
 thousand. We who besieged, were besieged, and faith! 
 if we had not had the greatest commander of the age 
 (no implication on the old Due de Villars or Marl- 
 borough himself), not a man of us would have lived to 
 get back. But in the middle of the night, unexpected 
 to the infidels, who thought they surely had us, with a 
 great fog over us, the army, veterans every man of 
 them, formed shoulder to shoulder, in c'urkness so great 
 they went more by touch than by eyesight, and without
 
 A PRINU-.S> 'H I'ARIS. 193 
 
 a sound marched out of our intrenchments, and were on 
 them, and then God help them! 
 
 "But all the time I had one thought 'not only 
 glory but plunder! ' And I went straight at the tent of 
 the Grand Vizier, for I had marked it down with my 
 eyes, day after day, and said: 'There's where the finest 
 pickings will be! ' But the finest pickings were the best 
 guarded, and we had to cut our way through the Janis- 
 saries of the Sultan. At last we got there to find him 
 gone ; but I was after him, for the Turks were flying by 
 this time. 
 
 " I was bound to have the Vizier, and so I disappeared 
 for a week, chasing him with but one regiment of horse 
 at my back, till finally I captured him seventy miles 
 from the battle ground, and got what has made me able 
 to live like a nabob. 
 
 "It was nearly a week before I returned from my 
 expedition in fact, I was so long gone that the first 
 reports of the battle in Vienna said O'Brien Dillon had 
 left the world along with the Count d'Estrades and 
 many other generals of battalia, slain by the Turks. So 
 my coming to Vienna was such a source of joy to his 
 Majesty, who was about to put the court into mourning 
 for me, that his Imperial Highness said : ' What 
 can I do for you, General Dillon, to celebrate your 
 return ? ' 
 
 " 'Faith, your Majesty,' said I, 'you have only one 
 Irish Count in the army now Count Browne; could 
 you not make it two? ' 
 
 "'Why, certainly, Count Dillon,' said he, and, by 
 my soul, that is the way I became a noble of the 
 Empire, and when I go back there Countess Dillon will 
 not have to go in behind the oldest baroness in Vienna. 
 
 " Lanty, too, has clone pretty well for himself, for 
 he took a pasha with his own hands. They would have 
 made him a captain, but a captain could not varnish 
 my boots, and the faithful fellow would not hear of 
 it. Now, tell me if you know anything about the 
 Countess Dillon! " 
 
 It is very hard to tell a friend that his wife is the 
 mistress of any man even a Prince Regent ; so Raymond 
 simply says, "That he has no doubt Hilda is in Paris, 
 as her uncie is now known as Monsieur Lass."
 
 194 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "What! my_ ' Uncle Johnny,' says the Irishman. 
 " Faith, then, I'll hunt him up at his dirty bank. I've 
 got bills on him from Vienna for eighty thousand 
 crowns. He can pay the lady and the money over at 
 the ^same time. But, Raymond, I've been riding all 
 day, and you have, too, as I understand." 
 
 ''Yes, we must have both arrived in Paris about the 
 same time." 
 
 "Then, as our pipes have gone out, what do you say 
 to bed ? " 
 
 So the two turn in and sleep the sleep of the soldier, 
 very contentedly. 
 
 On awakening late the next morning the first thing 
 that comes into D'Arnac's mind, with a shock of recol- 
 lection, is: "'A note to-morrow !' and my friend 
 my old comrade, O'Brien Dillon, sleeping by my side! " 
 
 He gets up and dresses himself, and not seeing Lanty 
 about, that worthy being occupied in the transfer of his 
 master's baggage to Raymond's quarters, inquires of his 
 lackey, under his breath, as if he were ashamed of it: 
 "Any letters for me ? " 
 
 "Yes," says the man promptly, and hands him one, 
 which he is relieved to discover is from his sister. 
 
 It says : 
 
 If you have arrived, come and see me immediately ! Jeanne 
 has grown beyond me. Come and exert your authority over the 
 wild child. 
 
 I obtained your address from Cousin Charlie, who told me 
 what apartments he had engaged for you. 
 
 This puts other business before him, and he is glad to 
 get away to it. Charging his valet to take careful charge 
 of any letters that may come for him and put them away 
 in his portfolio devoted to his private papers, he leaves 
 his apartments, not even awakening Dillon, who is still 
 sleeping the pleasant slumbers of successful and happy 
 manhood. 
 
 Somehow or other he doesn't care to look in his 
 friend's face in the light of day, for conscience is sing- 
 ing in his ear: "A note to-morrow! a note to-mor- 
 row!" 
 
 Therefore he goes off to make his breakfast at the 
 cafe" in the Rue de Fosses Saint Germain, which is quite
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 195 
 
 convenient to him, and there chances to meet old Poisson, 
 the comedian. 
 
 "Monsieur le Comte d'Arnac, I believe," remarks 
 Paul, coming up and making his best bow. Then he 
 grins : ' ' Parbleu ! you found the niece of Monsieur Lass, 
 Madame O'Brien Dillon, without me, my young friend," 
 next chuckles: " I did not know it was a love affair, or 
 I would have helped you, young Apollo. It is always 
 the role of the comedian to assist eloping Romeos and 
 Juliets." 
 
 " Sit down and have breakfast with me," says D'Arnac 
 affably, who wishes any company to keep him from his 
 conscience, and drive "A note to-morrow!" from his 
 brain. 
 
 The two make quite a comfortable meal of it, Pois- 
 son running on with anecdotes of the stage, and telling 
 of the great success of Lecouvreur, the new star at the 
 Francaise. 
 
 " Perhaps I'll have another pupil for you, Monsieur 
 Poisson," laughs Raymond. "I've a young lady a 
 WARD" this very sternly, for the comedian is begin- 
 ning to grin, "who cherishes aspirations for the 
 boards." 
 
 "Ma foil another?" gasps Paul. Then he says, 
 meditatively: " If she is as beautiful as the other, and 
 has the same bizarre disposition, she would make as 
 great a success as I once predicted for the charming 
 young lady Monsieur Lass put under my care. But Lass 
 has become the great banker now and has no more use 
 for the poor comedian, save to laugh from his box, as 
 he sits behind the Regent, at the grimaces and antics 
 of Poisson, the actor." 
 
 " Perhaps the young lady I am speaking of has as 
 bizarre a disposition," returns Raymond, "though I 
 doubt if she has anything like the beauty." 
 
 "No, that were impossible," says Poisson, decidedly. 
 
 "Quite so, " replies Raymond, agreeing with him, 
 and rising from his seat, he bids the comedian good- 
 bye, then strolls off to the Hotel de Chateaubrien to 
 find a child who has grown into a young lady during 
 his absence, and who has equal graces and fascinations 
 with even la Sabran herself, and a very wild and bizarre- 
 disposition, but a much better heart.
 
 196 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 He enters the hotel to be embraced by the charming 
 Mimi, who has just thrown off her widow's mourning. 
 She says: ''Please don't speak to me of Roul, " as 
 Raymond mentions her dead husband; then wipes away 
 some pearly tears. Though Roul de Chateaubrien had 
 been much older than his wife, Mimi has one of those 
 natures who, though brilliant in the world, is t domestic 
 at the hearthstone. She has given love and a/fection to 
 her husband when alive and still has tears and regretful 
 remembrance for him, though he has passed away some 
 two years before. 
 
 A moment after she says: "Raymond, let us not 
 discuss family matters, "for D'Arnac has mentioned the 
 Count de Crevecceur. To-day I have to lay something 
 before you, about which you must take action at once." 
 
 " Ah, la petite Quinault ? " 
 
 " Yes, la diable Quinault! " 
 
 "What has she done ?" 
 
 "What has she not done ? If it had not been for 
 your strict injunctions, mademoiselle would have been 
 on bread and water in the convent cell. She ran away." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Here !" 
 
 " Here ! This is a frightful place for a young girl ! " 
 jeers Raymond. 
 
 " But she ran away to go on the stage." 
 
 "What stage?" 
 
 ' ' Any stage. She said she would act in a booth rather 
 than live in a convent any longer. She has been here 
 four days and makes me take her to the theatre every 
 night. The mania is in her blood. If she becomes an 
 actress they will not bury her in consecrated ground." 
 
 " Parbleu ! Mademoiselle Jeanne isn't thinking of 
 death but of life," laughs D'Arnac. Then he asks 
 earnestly : " What is she like ? " 
 
 "A riddle and a rhapsody ! A fascinating minx that 
 makes me want to slap her one minute and kiss her the 
 next. But come with me, "says Mimi. "She is in the 
 library working herself into a tantrum over Racine or 
 Corneille ; she gets herself into emotions over tragedies 
 and into good humor over comedies. 
 
 "Just look at her! " whispers Madame la Marquise, 
 as Raymond follows her. She points cautiously into
 
 A I'RINLl..-- OF PARIS. 197 
 
 the library, and D'Arnac, glancing at Jeanne Quinault, 
 stands in delighted surprise. 
 
 Jeanne is sitting in an arm-chair, in careless not-care 
 attitude, one little foot poked under her, the other lying 
 on a neighboring ottoman, the short skirt of convent 
 uniform falling from it to disclose as perfect an ankle as 
 ever delighted man. A ray of sunshine falls upon a 
 curly head, with bright blue eyes that gaze upon some 
 book of the emotions, for her face changes as she reads, 
 and each expression is one of fascinating beauty. 
 
 As D'Arnac looks he knows the bud has blossomed, 
 the chrysalis has become the butterfly, the little Quinault 
 of three years ago has grown into a woman of rare beauty 
 and brilliant mind. 
 
 Perchance she has not the unearthly loveliness and 
 enchanting, erratic graces of Hilda de Sabran, but she 
 has a beauty that is always potent, for it reflects each 
 charming emotion of her vivacious mind, each rapid 
 thought of her bright spirit. 
 
 As the two glide into her, Jeanne gives proof of this. 
 
 With eyes yet bent upon the book she says sulkily: 
 " Do I still enjoy your hospitality, Madame la Marquise, 
 or do I go back to the convent ? " and getting no 
 answer from Raymond, who gazes, and Mimi, who won't 
 speak, she goes on : "If I return to Des Capucines 
 I go back a NUN! I can work up a vocation for 
 anything in five minutes, and if I endure seclusion I 
 might as well use it to save my soul. Answer, which 
 shall it be, nun or actress ? " And working herself 
 into a rage of the imagination she cries: "Answer, 
 Madame la Marquise! Take your choice! Answer! 
 Talk! Do something! Scold me! Kiss me!" and 
 springs up, raising eyes that have tears, half of rage, 
 half of laughter. Then, seeing D'Arnac, she gives a 
 semi-pathetic, semi-startled cry. 
 
 " I think I'll kiss you! " laughs Raymond. 
 
 But she astonishes him. She says: "No! scold 
 me, I deserve it! Scold me well, Mon Seigneur.'" 
 and suddenly courtesies to him an;l kisses his hand as she 
 did when he had left her. 
 
 " \ot my hand, Jeanne, after three years!" cries 
 D'Arnac. "As your guardian He approaches her 
 quite reverently and tenderly to salute her.
 
 198 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "Then, if it is your pleasure, Mon Seigneur," she 
 returns, courtesying, and holds up a rosy cheek quite 
 complaisantly for his welcome. But just as he is kissing. 
 the cheek turns and his salute falls on lips of dewy coral 
 that burst into a merry laugh, and it is the soldier of the 
 army who blushes and not the maid of the convent 
 school. 
 
 This blush of Raymond's helps Jeanne win her 
 battle for the stage. Mimi, looking on, does not like it. 
 She notes the wondrous capabilities the girl gives 
 promise of in that indefinite art called man killing. 
 She thinks: "On the stage Jeanne will have many 
 admirers, in the convent only my brother. She knows 
 that marriage for a D'Arnac with the girl is as prac- 
 tically impossible as it would be for a Bourbon the 
 line between the blood of the nobles and the blood of 
 the outside herd is drawn stronger than between white 
 blood and black blood ; that it would less offend class 
 prejudice for him to wed a negro princess than to 
 marry the daughter of the richest tradesman of the 
 city. The sooner Mademoiselle Quinault is on the 
 boards the better Raymond will not then have her 
 care. Yet all the time Mimi loves the girl, but the 
 hauteur of the noblesse died so hard in France it took 
 the guillotine to kill it, and even then it revived, and 
 still, even at this moment, is gasping. 
 
 Acting on this impulse Madame de Chateaubrien 
 says playfully but with rare tact: "Now you have 
 kissed her, Raymond, scold Miss Rebel and send her 
 back to the convent." 
 
 "Then what would there be in life for me?" cries 
 Jeanne. "Do you wish to leave me in seclusion for- 
 ever?" 
 
 "Oh," answers D'Arnac, lightly, "a year or two 
 more and we'll bring you out and marry you." 
 
 " Impossible I have no dot ! " 
 
 "Monsieur de Villars and myself will look to that. 
 
 "You would marry me to >hoi 1" gasps the girl, 
 a curious light coming into her eyes and wild blushes 
 flying over her bright face "TO WHOM?" She 
 droops her head, but her eyes give one or two bashful 
 but pathetic glances at Raymond that makes his sister 
 shiver and grow pale they are so enchanting.
 
 A Pkl.N* ESS ' !' PARIS. 199 
 
 Getting no answer, Mademoiselle electrifies them. 
 She cries in a voice hoarse as Medea over Jason's wrongs : 
 " Coward! you dare not speak you would marry me to 
 a base tradesman ' What would 1 i are for the creature's 
 turns in butter o'r for the price of Lyons velvet and 
 Venice lace, save to make me prettier ? But on the 
 stage ! " here she becomes enthused " There I may not 
 be a princess, but I can play one, and for one night think 
 I am of noble birth, and not not an outcast with the 
 pride of Lucifer within my veins! " 
 
 "An outcast?" mutters Raymond, moved. "How 
 dare you say that to me ? " 
 
 ' ' What put that outcast idea into your head, Jeanne ? " 
 asks Mimi, who is more used to her rhapsodies than 
 her brother. 
 
 "The world!" 
 
 " The what ? " gasps Raymond. 
 
 "The convent school! When I told the girls my 
 mother was an actress, my father an acrobat, they said I 
 was a pariah. Then I proved to them the daughter of 
 an acrobat had the arm of an acrobat ! " and mademoi- 
 selle holds up in triumph a patrician hand and arm, and 
 says: "Behold! with this I slapped them." 
 
 "Then you would prefer the Francais to the convent?" 
 
 "The Francais!" screams Jeanne. "The Francais I 
 shall act there like Lecouvreur whom I saw last night! 
 Oh, Diable ! but I'll do you honor! Monsieur le Comte 
 d'Arnac shall say that goddess of the boxes, that pride 
 of the parterre belongs to me her seigneur and kisses 
 my hand and I will do so each time you come behind the 
 scenes, and bless you, dear Monsieur Raymond, and kiss 
 your hand as I do now, if you will say ' Jeanne, live the 
 only life that is for you the life of art,'" and she does 
 so on her knees, putting both tears and kisses on his 
 hand, till D'Arnac mutters: "Have your way; it is not 
 I whose life you s'aved should refuse you anything! " 
 
 To this Mimi remarks: " Perhaps it is the best thing 
 for her after all." 
 
 " You you give consent ? " cries Jeanne. 
 
 " Diable ! Yes. It is not much will be refused you 
 in this world if you plead for it in that way," laughs 
 Raymond, gazing at the graceful figure kneeling before 
 him.
 
 200 A PRINCESS OF- PARIS. 
 
 But it doesn't kneel long. As he speaks Jeanne flies 
 up crying: "The artiste will no longer be degraded by 
 the school-girl's dress! " 
 
 " Don't be in such a hurry ! " giggles Mimi. " Dresses 
 must be made, and you'll have to study before you 
 triumph." 
 
 "Won't I study ? Wait ! See ! I know the Phedre now ! 
 Would you like me to recite it, word by word, scene by 
 scene, act by act ? " 
 
 " Mon Dieu!" gasps D'Arnac, nervously, " It is five 
 hours long! " 
 
 "Yes, but you can sit down!" cries Jeanne, and 
 places chairs. 
 
 These preparations terrify her guardians. 
 
 Raymond announces: "I've got to go back to my 
 quarters. My friend, O'Brien Dillon, has just come 
 from Vienna," and Mimi says: "I'll go and make 
 arrangements for your tutelage, my embryo artiste ; I 
 think Mademoiselle Desmares would like a pupil." 
 
 " That means you imagine I will not be a tragedienne, " 
 pouts Miss Quinault. 
 
 "Nonsense Fly-away! " laughs Madame la Marquise. 
 "With your bright face and piquant manners, the audi- 
 ence will love you too well to see you suffer! " 
 
 "Very well! bring Desmares here, and I'll astonish 
 her! " cries Jeanne, with the true modesty of all great 
 artists. 
 
 At which Mimi and Raymond burst into a laugh that 
 makes the comedienne's eyes flash all the fires of 
 tragedy, as the two depart on their various errands. 
 
 "Do you think, " says Madame la Marquise to her 
 brother, as he stands with her in the vestibule of her 
 hotel, awaiting the driving up of her carriage, "that 
 she will make a success, she has such a bizarre disposi- 
 tion ? " 
 
 "That is one of the things that will do it! " returns 
 Raymond. " I had a talk with old Poisson, of the 
 Francais, this morning, and he says uncontrollable 
 emotions generally go with the great triumphs of the 
 stage." 
 
 ' ' Then she will be one of the wonders of the theatre ! " 
 laughs Mimi. A moment after she says: "You 
 mentioned the return of your friend, the Irish Colonel,
 
 \ PRINCESS OK PARIS. 201 
 
 the man who saved your life at Friburg. He has come 
 hack unscathed from the Turkish war ? " 
 
 "Yes; a general and a count. Now we are indeed 
 brothers!" remarks D'Arnac. Then his face grows 
 serious as he adds: " I must go back to my quarters at 
 once," and strides rapidly towards the Rue Christine, 
 for "A note to-morrow! " is once more ringing in his 
 brain. 
 
 As he walks he meditates, and to one thing definitely 
 makes up his mind; that is, he will burn the letter 
 unread. It is the only way he can put temptation from 
 him; and every sentiment of manhood compels his 
 honor to his old friend. No matter what Hilda may 
 be to other men she shall be nothing to Raymond 
 d'Arnac. 
 
 This relieves his mind. He comes up the stairs quite 
 cheerily into his apartments, and, seeing his old comrade 
 seated there with happy face, cries out: "Ah, the world 
 has treated you well to-day! " 
 
 Then O'Brien Dillon gives him his answer, and it 
 carries with it one of the greatest coups de theatre of his 
 life. 
 
 "By my soul! " cries the Irishman, " I'm the happiest 
 man on earth! I went to hunt up my Uncle Johnny at 
 his bank, but could not find him. He was away, busied 
 about that new company he has formed the India 
 one, they call it that is to turn all the wealth of the 
 Canadas and Louisiana into Uncle Johnny's capacious 
 maw, though he expresses it, 'into the lap of France. ' 
 Not seeing him there Lanty and I engaged a private 
 billiard-room, and had a very pleasant time of it. 
 
 " Between ourselves, for this is a great secret, practic- 
 ing the new stroke in billiards that Lanty has invented. 
 Ah, it's a wonderful one! When first Lanty did 
 it for me, I grabbed him by the throat to strangle the 
 divil out of him, for I thought that old Satan himself 
 was in him, the ball rolled so curious. But he explained 
 it to me when I let him get his breath back, saying it 
 was merely a new law of forces. Something he had 
 discovered kicking cannon halls about when he had 
 nothing better to do, and we were cooped up before 
 Belgrade by the Turks. Faith, it's a stroke a man can 
 win a million on if he plays it properly. It's better
 
 202 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 than loaded dice, or Uncle Johnny's pharo combina- 
 tions. 
 
 " And then I came here, my boy, to receive the great 
 joy of my life. This letter of love from my darling 
 wife! " 
 
 With this, he hands the astounded Raymond a note, 
 and there are happy tears in the Irishman's eyes as the 
 Frenchman reads as follows : 
 
 MY DARLING : 
 
 God knovtfs how I have looked for longed for this your 
 return after years of absence your return in spite of those who 
 would keep us apart. How I bless your brave heart for daring 
 to come to Paris for my sake ! But now I think we are strong 
 enough together to at least brave those who would separate us, 
 though they tore me from your arms. In my imagination, I 
 see you now as you fought for me. 
 
 Come at ten o'clock this evening to the Rue des Bonnes 
 Enfants by the side of the gardens of the Palais Royal. There 
 my maid will meet you, and bring you to me, and your heart, 
 as it once did, shall beat against that of 
 
 Your loving 
 
 HILDA. 
 
 With a start, Raymond turns to the envelope, think- 
 ing, by some wild mistake, his note has been opened by 
 his friend. But the address reads plainly: 
 
 To 
 
 GENERAL COMTE DILLON, 
 
 RUE CHRISTINE, 
 Private. Immediate. PARIS. 
 
 He knows it is some marvelous error, but blesses 
 God that every word written to him might apply to 
 Hilda's husband. 
 
 Yet, filled with curiosity and wonder, such are the 
 vagaries of passion, D'Arnac chews his moustachios 
 very glumly, as O'Brien descants with excited eyes on 
 the marvelous beauty of his peer among women 
 his heart's darling, who has come once more into his 
 life. 
 
 And sp they sit down to dinner, Raymond eating but 
 little, under the plea of a heavy breakfast. But O'Brien, 
 pouring down the wine in generous bumpers and shout- 
 ing every now and again: "A health to the beautiful 
 goddess of delight! Drink hearty, Raymond, my boy,
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 203 
 
 to the second honeymoon of General Comte O'Brien 
 Dillon! " 
 
 Whereon, Raymond puts the glass to his lips, but the 
 wine seems to him very sour .vinegar. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE SECOND HOXKVMOi X OF O'BRIEN DILLON. 
 
 CURIOUSLY enough, this extraordinary complication 
 has been brought about by Cousin Charlie. Monsieur 
 le Procureur du Roy has also had buzzing in his brain: 
 " A note to-morrow! " and has made his preparations 
 accordingly. 
 
 Knowing very well the habits of fine ladies, he guesses 
 that Madame de Sabran will rise quite late after the 
 Regent's supper, and determines the note for his cousin 
 will arrive not earlier than one o'clock in the day. 
 
 A little before this hour he sends a lackey of his (whom 
 he has used before on similar doubtful errands) with 
 distinct instructions to get hold of D'Arnac's servants and 
 lure them away to a neighboring wine shop. 
 
 This is easily done, and shortly after one o'clock 
 Monsieur de Moncrief takes post in Raymond's apart- 
 ments to receive his mail. 
 
 There is no one to hinder him, Dillon and Lanty 
 being out, and the two lackeys of D'Arnac at present 
 engaged in playing dominoes and drinking Cliianti at a 
 wine shop in the neighboring Rue de Savoye, in company 
 with Cousin Charlie's man, who is very liberally paying 
 the score. 
 
 After perchance an hour's uneasy vigil, in comes a 
 little blackamoor servant of Madame de Sabran, ladies of 
 fashion making quite a fad of Ethiopian attache's in 1717. 
 
 This creature says in his darkey dialect: " A not-lit- 
 for Moussou de Arnack." 
 
 "Quite right," returns le Procureur, "these are 
 Monsieur d'Arnac's apartments ! " and takes the 
 missive. 
 
 Then a wicked twinkle comes into his eyes, as he 
 makes young dark skin happy by giving him a crown with 
 which to buy bon bons.
 
 204 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 And Blackamoor going off in pursuit of his loved 
 sweets, Charles de Moncrief looks at the address: 
 
 To 
 
 GENERAL COMTE D'ARNAC, 
 
 RUE CHRISTINE, 
 Private. Immediate. PARIS. 
 
 After a moment's consideration he chuckles to himself: 
 "It will not be difficult to change ' D'Arnac ' to 
 ' Dillon! ' The Irishman is a soldier and not a scribe, 
 and his deception will be an easy one." 
 
 This he does, simulating quite correctly in the few 
 letters he has to make on the envelope the handwriting 
 of the fair De Sabran. 
 
 Leaving this note upon the table, in prominent posi- 
 tion, where it will catch Dillon's eye when he returns, 
 Cousin Charlie departs, meditating: " I wonder if this 
 will be the quietus of dear boy Raymond! " 
 
 But after dinner, being desperately anxious to find 
 out what has been the outcome of the Irish officer's 
 perusal of his wife l s note to his bosom friend and 
 comrade, De Moncrief, unable to contain his curiosity, 
 knocks at the door of Raymond's apartments, cogitat- 
 ing: "I doubt not the wild Irishman has killed Cousin 
 Raymond by this time, and gone off to slay that Venus, 
 his wife, who boxed her Cupid's cheeks! " 
 
 His eagerness makes his ears alert. The noise of 
 hilarity comes to him through the door. He starts, 
 astonished, but is petrified, as the portal opens to find both 
 gentlemen dining apparently very amicably together. 
 
 "Ah! They are doing the thing en gentlehomme. 
 They will drink wine with each other to-night, 
 and cross rapiers by to-morrow's morning light," he 
 guesses. 
 
 He has heard very good accounts of Dillon's sword- 
 play, and has great hopes that Raymond will not escape 
 the Irishman's vengeance. 
 
 So, with his finest bow, De Moncrief begs to be intro- 
 duced to the celebrated officer, of whom he has heard 
 so much. " Parbleu, General," he remarks, on pres- 
 entation, "D'Arnac has been full of nothing but your 
 conduct on the Rhine, and you have been even more 
 successful among the Turks ! I admirt your diamonds ! "
 
 A PRINCESS OF 1'AKIS. 205 
 
 For Dillon, having rigged himself out for the re-con- 
 quest of his blushing bride, is literally ablaze with bril- 
 liants he has ravished from the Turkish Vizier. 
 
 But now he fairly paralyzes the Pfocureur with amaze- 
 ment, for he cries out, in his genial Irish brogue: "Sit 
 down and join us! Monsieur de Moncrief, aglassof wine 
 to the health of the fairest woman in France Madame 
 la Comtesse Dillon! " 
 
 At these words the Procureur's knees give way 
 under him. He sinks into a chair and says faintly: 
 "The health of of Madame la Comtesse Dillon! " for 
 Lanty has filled a goblet for him. 
 
 Then, though the wine tastes sour to him, as it does 
 to Raymond, he tries to put on great show of merri- 
 ment, and attempts a faint joke with the serving Lanty, 
 asking him if Lanty is not the short for Lancelot. 
 
 " No, it's Irish for Lanigan!" cries Lanty, at which 
 they all grow merry. 
 
 "Faith, I must top laughing and get on my way," 
 remarks O'Brien. " De Moncrief, I'll tell you the story 
 of my wars with the Turks the next time I see you." 
 
 "Indeed! you are in a hurry?" falters Charlie, 
 greatly disappointed, seeing there is no quarrel between 
 the friends. 
 
 " Bedad, there's a lady waiting for me," answers the 
 Irish General with a knowing wink. 
 
 " Ah," ejaculates the Procureur returning the ogle, 
 " a fair one so soon ? " 
 
 "Yes, and by my soul, MY WIFE! Look at that 
 letter!" cries Dillon, full of wine and joy. "Isn't 
 that a lovely billet doux for a man's return to Paris ? " 
 And he holds up in triumph the missive Cousin Charlie 
 has prepared for his eyes, to drive him mad for blood 
 with jealous despair, that has brought great joy unto the 
 innocent Irishman's soul of souls. 
 
 Gazing at the note De Moncrief is very much 
 tempted to tell the truth of the matter, which would 
 put these two men to flying at each other's throats. 
 But, words that come to him now, make him pause, 
 not daring to give the hint. 
 
 As Dillon has risen from the table, Lanty has sud- 
 denly brought in sword and pistols to him, saying: 
 "My lord, had I better take mine and follow ye?"
 
 206 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 Then he whispers: "Ye know something happened to 
 ye the last time you saw her! " 
 
 " Not a word, Lanty, against the good faith of the 
 woman who loves me! " cries the General passion in 
 his eyes. " Didn't she explain to Raymond here how 
 old Uncle Johnny had betrayed me, and she was 
 trying to save me ? Do you think I'd ever doubt her 
 truth to me with this lovely letter in my hand ? I'll 
 take sword and pistol as gentlemen should do when out 
 at night; but by the soul of Saint Patrick! I have as 
 much faith in her who is coming to my arms, as I have 
 in Heaven! " 
 
 So he strides off, joy in his honest eyes, leav- 
 ing D'Arnac smoking his pipe glumly, and the 
 Procureur du Roy with some very evil curses that 
 tremble upon his lips, though he does not utter them. 
 
 A moment after Raymond rises and says: "You'll 
 excuse me, Cousin, but I think I'll return to the Hotel 
 de Chateaubrien, and see what arrangements my sister 
 has made for placing Mademoiselle Jeanne upon the 
 stage." 
 
 "Ha, you have seen her!" ejaculates De Moncrief. 
 
 "Yes," answers D'Arnac, and after a minute goes 
 on his errand, leaving the Procureur gazing after him 
 and thinking: " One string to my bow is broken, but 
 voila ! here is another ! Egad ! Raymond has fallen down 
 before a new goddess. Even as my cousin now walks 
 the streets, he is thinking of the charms of Mademoi- . 
 selle Jeanne." 
 
 But as he strides along, Raymond d'Arnac is not think- 
 ing of the charms of Mademoiselle Jeanne. The 
 perspiration of anguish, of disappointment, of regret, 
 is on his brow. He is sighing over the ineffable loveli- 
 ness that would have been his had not his friend returned 
 to claim it. 
 
 While this is taking place, the happy victor of this 
 evening's game of chance, O'Brien Dillon, is slashing 
 over the streets of Paris whistling a merry air. His 
 sanguine temperament, once nearly crushed by disap- 
 pointment and misfortune, under the sun of success 
 beams on every one who crosses his path. 
 
 Even the charlatans of the Pont Neuf receive kind words 
 and jingling coins from him. He jokes with the venders
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 2O^ 
 
 of wooden legs, and buys a box of perfumed powder for 
 Madame la Comtesse Dillon from an imploring 
 huckster. " Not that she'll need it, for her skin is like 
 lilies and roses," he laughs; "but it will show her I 
 thought of her even in battle, I'll inform her I captured 
 it in the Vizier's tent, for her own beautification, and 
 that it was much used by the ladies of the^ harem, to 
 give them complexions pleasing to the Sultan. Perhaps 
 the darling would rather have diamonds, though," cogi- 
 tates the General, looking at the gems that make him 
 glitter. 
 
 In this he is about right, for Hilda will undoubtedly 
 pounce on the brilliants before the face powder. 
 
 So, jostling his way on through the crowds of Paris, 
 under the lighted oil lamps of the Rue St. Honore, he 
 shortly after turns into the Rue des Bonnes Enfants, 
 and striding down that street comes to its secluded part, 
 opposite the gardens of the Palais Royal. 
 
 Then, after looking about eagerly for some little time, 
 he steps up to a very pretty maid servant, who is appar- 
 ently on post at this point, and chucking her under the 
 chin, laughs: "Rosalie, don't you know your old 
 master ?" 
 
 And the girl turns to him wondering eyes that grow 
 affrighted, as she gasps : " Major O'Brien Dillon !" 
 
 "Faith, I'm glad 'you remember me, though I'm a 
 general now ! " says O'Brien happily. " But take me 
 to your mistress, for by my soul I'm as anxious to get 
 kiss of her as she is of me ! " 
 
 " My mistress! " gasps the girl. 
 
 "Yes, your mistress, who sent me this little note, 
 telling me to meet you here^at ten o'clock, and I would 
 be taken to her apartments. " Your mistress, my wife 
 Madame la Comtesse Dillon." 
 
 "La Comtesse D Dillon!" stammers the maid, 
 who is the one that served Hilda in the Low Countries. 
 
 " Don't you understand, ye little addlepate," 
 answers the Irishman, for on seeing Dillon's face 
 Rosalie lias grown very stupid, perchance from 
 fright. "Ah, if I had known you would be here, 
 1 should have brought Mr. Lanty along with me. 
 Kaith, the disappointment of the fellow will be terrible 
 when I tell him that it was his little Rosalie that met
 
 2O8 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 me here. But Lanty's chance will come afterwards. 
 Quick! run along. Can't you see I'm as impatient a 
 husband as ever came back from war; aye, and the 
 happiest. I think I could love a Turk at this moment." 
 
 This rigmarole gives the quick-witted Rosalie time to 
 reflect. He certainly has the note. She knows O'Brien 
 Billion's impetuous nature. She dare not tell him it is 
 a mistake. N * 
 
 So, with eyes big with astonishment, and a slight 
 snicker that will force itself through Rosalie's pretty 
 lips, she gasps: "This way!" 
 
 And he, accompanying her through one or two 
 neighboring streets, Mademoiselle Rosalie taps three 
 times, very cautiously, at the side entrance of a 
 magnificent residence. 
 
 Then the door being opened to her, she dashes in, 
 followed by the Irish officer, but being more familiar with 
 the place distances him, and running into a magnificent 
 apartment ablaze with light and decorated and adorned 
 with pictures by the finest artists, and statues of the 
 greatest sculptors, bric-a-brac from Sevres and glass from 
 Bohemia, she cries out loudly and in commanding tone 
 of voice: "I ANNOUNCE GENERAL O'BRIEN DILLON!" 
 
 And a lady, fair as Venus rising from the sea, springs 
 up with a wild cry. 
 
 But before she can say anything a pair of stal- 
 wart arms clasp her to a broad breast, and showering 
 kisses upon lips that grow pale with every 
 emotion under the sun, astonishment predominating, 
 O'Brien Dillon gasps: "God bless you, wife of my 
 heart! Your husband has at last come to you through 
 the dangers of battle rich and honored from the land 
 of the Turk!" 
 
 And how is he answered ? 
 
 At first by gasping sighs and trembling shudders and 
 rolling eyes, for astonishment, disappointment, and, 
 above all, astounded fury, would make his new found 
 spouse faint in his arms if he would let her; but 
 O'Brien comes of sterner stuff. "No fainting," he 
 cries, ' ' when there's kissing to do, MADAME LA COMTESSE 
 DILLON! " 
 
 This unexpected title gives the lady another shock 
 that partially revives her, though her husband's strong
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 2OQ 
 
 arms still squeeze half the breath from her delicate 
 body, and his impulsive kisses upon her sighing lips 
 consume the other portion. 
 
 O'Brien's ardor does the rest. 
 
 Under his caresses, she who had grown dazed 
 and clammy with astounded shock and mysterious fear 
 at the sudden substitution of this husband she thought 
 dead on the banks of the Danube, in place of the living 
 man for whose coming she had been waiting anxious as 
 Leda for her swan, grows warm and sentient. 
 
 With one great wave the blood flies to limbs that were 
 cold and trembling. The statue that was marble takes 
 glowing life and color. Hilda awakes to the situation 
 in all its embarrassing vivacity. 
 
 "It is real ! " she gasps. 
 
 "Is that real ?" laughs O'Brien. "By my soul, 
 can't ye believe your own happiness ? Won't that prove 
 it, wife of my heart ? Isn't that and THAT pleasing and 
 convincing evidence?" These " thats " are all long, 
 strong kisses that have lost no charm or potency by 
 their four years' waiting. 
 
 " Y-e-s, I recognize them," gasps Hilda. Then she 
 lisps with most coquettish moue : "They they have 
 the same tobacco flavor." 
 
 Under them Hilda throws off the last daze of unreal- 
 ity. 
 
 O'Brien can't be dead; never were specter's kisses 
 so vivid, so fascinating. 
 
 They are not those she has been longing for, but they 
 are enchanting all the same, not because they are her 
 husband's, for laws of God or man have little to do with 
 this lady's vagaries, but while he has been caressing, she 
 has been gazing. 
 
 Before her stands even a handsomer fellow than the 
 O'Brien Dillon of her Flanders honeymoon. 
 
 His mien has grown that of one accustomed to com- 
 mand; his fine, stalwart figure, decked with the full 
 uniform of an Austrian general, a*nd blazing with the 
 diamonds of the Turk, looks imposing, distinguished 
 and dominating to Madame Erratic as she inspects 
 him in her soul one supreme wonder how did this 
 occur.
 
 2IO A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 His frankness soon elucidates the affair. " Darling," 
 he whispers, " if you are dazed with joy, haven't I been 
 mad with delight ever since I got your dear little note ? " 
 and waves the billet doux before her rolling eyes. 
 
 "You got my letter ? " she ejaculates. 
 
 Then astonishes herself, as she mutters, "Thank 
 God!" for his kisses have made Madame Inconstant 
 love him the most for a little while. 
 
 In her first burst of disappointment she could have 
 slain the unfortunate little blackamoor to whom 
 she attributes the miscarriage of her letter, but as she 
 gazes and O'Brien kisses, she could shower young dark 
 skin with favors and bon bons. 
 
 "Look at the darling little love note, "runs on Dillon, 
 thrusting the missive under her eyes. 
 
 Thus cajoled she examines the epistle, and finding 
 that the address has been changed by some deft hand, 
 knows she owes her unexpected surprise to some other 
 than her page. 
 
 For one instant she thinks perchance it is Ray- 
 mond, and anathematizes him between her teeth at 
 this insult to her charms. The next instant Vanity 
 says, " It can't be he he loves me now as well as he 
 did at Mieux. His eyes told me that last night." 
 
 But still .she goes to questioning: " Did you show 
 this to any one, dear O'Brien ? " 
 
 " To only one my bosom friend the man who tried 
 to take you to me in Vienna," answers Dillon. " But 
 I told every one. Faith, do you think a man can have 
 a joy like this and keep from shouting ? " and he goes 
 on, with pride and love in his eyes, and gives her an 
 account of the affair at which she wonders. 
 
 But while O'Brien is talking she has been charming 
 him with little coy, wifely caresses and attentions that 
 put him in the Seventh Heaven of the Ottoman. 
 
 He looks round the room. Its ceiling is frescoed 
 into gayest cupids and brightest goddesses, and its 
 pictures and works of art, its statuettes of ivory and 
 marble, are all of cTelicate designs; its draperies and 
 hangings of lightest silks and satins the fit boudoir for 
 a goddess, and that goddess his ! 
 
 The place would seem dreamy were it not for the 
 vivacious loveliness it enshrines.
 
 A PRINCESS OF I'ARIS. 211 
 
 For Hilda this evening is robed for the conquest of 
 man, and the allurements prepared for Raymond drive 
 Dillon wild with rapture. 
 
 He whispers: " You made yourself purty, all for me, 
 ye darling," and sits enthralled, for somehow he knows 
 she must love the man for whom she is arrayed. 
 
 Her full evening dress has the suggestions of tcte a 
 fete. It seems less for the ballroom than for "the man 
 she loves and him ONLY. 
 
 It is some coquettish, gauzy texture that drapes over 
 her short, glimmering satin skirt and makes her ethereal 
 but not celestial. 
 
 Her neck, arms and bosom gleam above it with ivory 
 effects. In it she is a fairy Cleopatra. 
 
 "Tell me, " she whispers, as she returns his kisses, 
 "how you slew the Turks, my hero. I saw you fight 
 once. 
 
 The admiration in her eyes enraptures Dillon. 
 " Which of 'em ?" he laughs, " the Vizier or the Pasha 
 or those beasts of Janissaries ? " 
 
 ' ' He of the Diamonds ! " 
 
 " Ha, trust your roguish little eyes for catching their 
 sparkle," chuckles O'Brien. "Upon my knee, little 
 wifey, and I'll tell ye of the Vizier." 
 
 Then a graceful fairy perches herself upon the war- 
 rior, and twining her fair fingers into his great red 
 whiskers, laughs, "Tell me, Big General!" 
 
 Thus coaxed, he gives her his story of the Danube, 
 explaining how he caught the Vizier all for her, and 
 that his diamonds were worth half a million crowns and 
 his ransom eighty thousand more, " For which, by the 
 bye, I've drafts on me Uncle Johnny," adds Dillon, 
 caustically. 
 
 A moment after he mutters: "I suppose I must 
 pDstpone killing him till after he's paid my checks." 
 
 "Of course," murmurs Hilda. Then she grows 
 more serious and suggests that Uncle Johnny has been 
 very kind to her. 
 
 " How ? By separating you from me ? " 
 
 " No, but he has made me rich; this house is mine." 
 
 " Is it ? " chuckles O'Brien. "Then his giving u- a 
 palace is one thing in his favor. I may let him off with 
 the loss of an arm or leg."
 
 212 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "Oh, "says Madame Hilda, pouting, for this easy 
 assumption of marital rights over her property is not 
 altogether to her liking, "you must do better than 
 that." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "You must forgive Uncle Johnny. He has given 
 me more. I've any quantity of stock in the bank and 
 lots of India securities." 
 
 "Then, if the stocks are to my liking, and there's 
 enough of 'em, I may let him live," utters Dillon, grow- 
 ing benign under her blandishments, "though I had 
 sworn to have my Uncle Johnny's blood." 
 
 " You will spare him! Brava!" cries Hilda. "Then 
 1 11 dance for you in in in YOUR DIAMONDS! " and 
 claps her pretty hands at the idea, as if it was a very 
 novel, original and pleasing one. 
 
 Next jumping up she whispers : " You remember how 
 you liked to see my twinkling feet, dear O'Brien, in 
 the good old days. I'll dance for you in the diamonds 
 of the Turk." 
 
 " Not unless ye let me pin them on yer lovely figure 
 myself! " cries the doting Dillon. 
 
 This luxury the lady coquettishly and coyly permits 
 him, and he soon has her sparkling like the stars in 
 Heaven. 
 
 The great crescent and its smaller star are blazing 
 upon her fair forehead, and jewels are twinkling from 
 out her hair, and flashing on her rounded arms 
 and gleaming neck and ivory bosom with dazzling 
 luster, though even their radiance adds little to a 
 beauty that is supreme, as she steps before him for the 
 dance. 
 
 With one swing, for this lady likes theatrical effects, 
 she tosses the gauzes of her overdress all sparkling 
 with jewels about her, waving it as a scarf, and tucking 
 up her shining white satin petticoat, makes her fasci 
 nating feet trip the measure of a dashing little 
 sarabande till the enthusiastic Dillon cries: "Brava!" 
 and stops her with enraptured kisses. 
 
 " Faith, you're like the Goddess Terpsichore herself! " 
 he laughs. " You look so beauteous in those diamonds 
 ye shall always wear them! " 
 
 An idea that has entered Hilda's brain before his.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 213 
 
 "Sure, I'm happy enough to dance an Irish jig 
 to-night, myself, " cries the general, " in my own house 
 with my own wife, after my return from all the dangers 
 of battle." 
 
 "Yes, we must take good care of our valuables now," 
 suggests Hilda; "though, of course, they are safe in 
 your own house, dear O'Brien." 
 
 " My valuables! sure, haven't I them all in my arms! 
 What more do I have ? " 
 
 " Your drafts on Uncle Johnny! " laughs his adored. 
 
 And at her suggestion the doting Dillon entrusts to 
 her all his orders upon the bank of Monsieur Lass, 
 obtained from the ransom of the Turkish Vizier, as he 
 has already given her his diamonds. Locking these 
 documents up in a little safe Madame Hilda has for 
 her jewelry and trinkets, the lady presently suggests 
 supper. 
 
 "Ah, bedad, you haven't forgotten my weakness, 
 Hilda!'' laughs O'Brien. " When I'm not making love or 
 fighting I m eating or drinking." 
 
 So putting a strong arm round her fairy waist the 
 Irish officer escorts his spouse to the dining-room, 
 where a delightful petit souper has been prepared but 
 not for him: O'Brien drinking libation after libation to 
 the Comtesse Dillon. 
 
 During this fete a little comedy scene takes place. 
 
 Rosalie is in attendance upon them a mass of 
 wondering eyes and suppressed giggles. 
 
 "Sure, any one would know this little banquet was 
 got up for the man you love, my darling! " says the 
 General, attacking a pate de Strassburg. " You've even 
 remembered my favorite champagne." 
 
 On this unexpected announcement Mademoiselle 
 Rosalie, unable to contain herself, flits out of the room 
 and goes into hysterics in the neighboring pantry. 
 
 But an awful contretemps follows after one that 
 might in a breath have become a tragedy. 
 
 The general making himself at home, seeing the 
 little blackamoor in an adjoining apartment, cries: 
 "Come here! " And the boy entering, headdresses him 
 with the ease of the master of the house: "Sambo, 
 what's your name ? "
 
 214 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "Apollo!" 
 
 Well then, Apollo, my shoes at nine in the morning, 
 and don't forget to burnish my silver buckles. You 
 know me ? " 
 
 "Yes, Moussou," returns Apollo, "you'se the 
 gen'leman I brought de nottie to you'se Moussou the 
 Comte D " 
 
 But Rosalie is behind the boy and her quick fingers 
 grip his neck destroying utterance and the latter part 
 of the name is destroyed, as she whirls Blackamoor 
 away, crying: "Remember your master's boots at nine, 
 lazy Apollo ! " 
 
 "Faith, he knows me," laughs the general, and 
 turning eyes upon Hilda, he exclaims: "Darling of 
 me heart, what's the matter ? " 
 
 She is trembling and her face is white, for she thinks : 
 "If he discovers now he'll kill me!" As indeed he 
 would. 
 
 " Only my my sudden happiness, " she gasps. "I 
 I thought if the Turks had slain you. " 
 
 "Be Saint Patrick ! you need have no more fears, my 
 shivering lamb! " replies O'Brien, "now that thy lord 
 and master has come home." 
 
 " My master ? " says Cleopatra looking at him with 
 open eyes. 
 
 "Aye! thy master! " returns Dillon, taking playfully 
 her fairy ear between his great -thumb and finger. 
 ' * The master who'll love you and RULE you, Madame la 
 Comtesse Dillon." 
 
 And this turn though it astonishes her, pleases her; 
 her volatile spirit has grown tired of adulation and 
 deference from sycophantic courtiers and even the 
 Regent of France. 
 
 "Then I am my lord's obedient handmaid!" she 
 whispers, and gives him a mocking courtesy of deference, 
 but all the time she looks up at her big Irish warrior as 
 Cleopatra looked at Julius Caesar when she was his 
 slave and did his bidding not as Cleopatra gazed at 
 Antony whom she commanded and destroyed. 
 
 The Marc Antony business came afterwards! 
 
 And in this attitude, as she drapes her robes about 
 her to give grace to her movement of obeisance, she 
 looks perchance more alluring than the Eastern
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 215 
 
 queen. One little hand is extended to her conqueror, 
 the other drawing back the glistening skirt from a foot 
 sandaled with pale blue satin and an ankle gleaming like 
 pinkest coral through its weblike silken hose. Her 
 lips parted with a little sigh of delight, her blue eyes 
 beaming, her arms and shoulders gleaming in the light, 
 and over all the charm of ineffable but indescribable 
 coquetry. 
 
 Looking at this, her Irish lord whispers: "By 
 Venus and the Muses, I'd go through a hundred battles 
 of Belgrade for such a SECOND HONEYMOON ! " 
 
 At his words, this fairy Cleopatra becomes a blushing 
 Goddess of Love. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 O'BRIEN DILLON AT HOME. 
 
 THUS it comes about that early in the next forenoon, 
 pretty little Rosalie Lutin trips up to D'Arnac's apart- 
 ments, to the joy of Lanty, who gives wild yells of 
 delight on seeing her, and promptly inflicts kisses upon 
 her, by way of punishment, for not notifying him she 
 was still with her old mistress. 
 
 "By all the powers of the other world, if I had 
 known ye were the little darling that was going to meet 
 the general, and take him to Paradise, faix I'd have 
 been knocking at the gates behind him, my darling. 
 Did ye come here to bring me a kiss ? Yer mistress 
 knew me master was in town yesterday; why couldn't 
 ye have been of an equally inquiring disposition ? " 
 
 " My mistress knew of your master's being in town 
 yesterday ? " giggles the girl. 
 
 '"Deed an' she did. Didn't she send him the 
 prettiest little note in the world, to bid him to 
 come to her ? Bedad ! you ought to have seen him 
 showing it in triumph to his friend, the Count d'Arnac." 
 
 At this announcement, little Rosalie cannot refrain 
 from shrieks of uncontrollable laughter. Finally check- 
 ing this, though she still holds her sides, she says: 
 "I have been sent over to bid you follow me to your 
 master's new home, with all his baggage and belong-
 
 2l6 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 ings He says his wife has a house fit for a prince, 
 and it's a long time since he's been under his, own roof, 
 and he'll stay there." 
 
 " Fortunately it is not much baggage we have!" 
 remarks Lanty, " only two hand valises and this little 
 belt I carry strapped round my waist. We military 
 gentlemen travel light." 
 
 Seeing a look of disdain upon Rosalie's face at this 
 paucity of impedimenta, the Irishman adds: "Sur^ 
 there's many a duke would like to travel with this little 
 belt of mine. Bedad, it contains half a million ducats' 
 worth of diamonds when the general is not wearing 
 them. " 
 
 "Yours ? '' cries Rosalie, matrimony beaming in her 
 eye. 
 
 " No, the general's! " 
 
 "Oh! " quite disappointedly. Then a moment after 
 she laughs: "Won't my mistress be delighted! " 
 
 " Divil doubt she will when she sees 'em! Many's 
 the duchess would have liked to have married our 
 plunder when we came back from Belgrade ! " mutters 
 Lanty, making his preparations. Then giving word 
 of his master's orders to D'Arnac, he departs, followed 
 b"y a couple of serving men he has picked up, carrying 
 the luggage, and with little Rosalie trotting compla- 
 cently by his side. 
 
 But on the walk over, apparently the secret in her 
 pretty mind is so amusing, so side-splitting, that she 
 cannot keep it entirely to herself, for Lanty all this 
 day, on seeing D'Arnac or his master, looks at them 
 with very curious eyes, and sometimes unable to contain 
 himself, walks out of the room, and indulges in 
 tremendous guffaws, whistles, and such irreverent and 
 ambiguous remarks as: " Wirra! was there iver known 
 the like of it ? " " By me soul, it must have been the 
 divil's own surprise to that enchantress! " " What will 
 become of us?" "Good Lord! if the general iver 
 knows, they'll be butcherin' each other! " 
 
 But O'Brien Dillon's advent into Paris produces new 
 and curious effects upon other people than his servant. 
 
 Monsieur Lass, desiring to see Madame Hilda, to ask 
 her to use her influence to gain an additional conces- 
 sion from the Regent for his India Company that he
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 21 7 
 
 and De Conti have organized shortly before this, and 
 which embodies the main scheme of this gentleman, to 
 ultimately get control of the finances of France, his 
 bank being merely a stepping stone to this, drives to 
 Madame de Sabran's residence to receive a shock that 
 makes even his cool brain reel. 
 
 Entering this lady's house, perchance a little uncere- 
 moniously, he is received by Madame Hilda, who 
 comes to greet him in most enchanting morning 
 neglige", her eyes very bright, her cheeks perchance a 
 little blushing but wonderfully radiant and fair, as she 
 astounds him with these impulsive words: "'Uncle 
 Johnny," congratulate me! I am once more a jiappy 
 bride." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " says Lass hurriedly, for her 
 appearance indicates a curious change has come over 
 this volatile lady. 
 
 "What do I mean ? I mean he who called you 
 ' Uncle Johnny,' has arrived." 
 
 '*DiabU!" mutters Lass, growing pale, for no man 
 on this earth, save the Irish Major, had ever applied 
 such a term to him. Then after a moment he 
 steadies himself and laughs: "This is some joke of 
 yours, Miss Badinage you don't mean it! " 
 
 "I mean O'Brien Dillon has come back to me a 
 general in the Austrian service and Count of the Empire. 
 And, furthermore, he has brought back the plunder of 
 the Grand Vizier and his harem with him, and blazes 
 with diamonds worth half a million ducats. In fact," 
 continues Hilda, perchance a little maliciously, " I 
 think he would be just the person to subscribe for the 
 stock of the new India Company that we are getting up 
 my husband and I will make investment! " 
 
 "Your husband ? " 
 
 "Yes!" Here she astounds him. " The husband 
 who has come back to my arms the husband that I 
 love ' " 
 
 " The hjusband that you love ! You love too many," 
 sneers Lass savagely. 
 
 " But this one I ADORE. This one I have determined 
 to KEEP." 
 
 "For how long?" mutters the financier sulkily. 
 Then he . goes on, affecting lightness: "Pooh! it is
 
 2l8 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 some little jeu d'esprit of yours. Ma belle you are 
 telling me a fairy tale." 
 
 " Is that a fairy tale ? " laughs Hilda, throwing open 
 a portiere. 
 
 And "Uncle Johnny's" knees knock together and 
 tremble under him as he sees, seated in the most 
 comfortable armchair in the house, the one devoted to 
 the use of the Regent himself, in all the domestic 
 content of home, the wild Irishman, who, he knows, has 
 sworn to kill him, taking his ease in dressing-gown and 
 slippers, and enjoying with that comfort peculiar to a 
 man's own hearthstone a long pipe made fragrant with 
 the fumes of smoking Virginia tobacco. 
 
 " Come in, my Uncle Johnny! " cries O'Brien affably. 
 " All's well that ends well! And faith I've forgiven 
 you, though it was hard work; but the dear creature 
 pleaded for you, and told me of the great things you 
 had done for her, and how you had made her rich by bank 
 stock, and were giving her a great chance in your India 
 scheme. Bedad! What is hers is mine, so I thank you 
 for it. Sapristi ! as your treachery to me only drove 
 me to the Turks to capture a vizier loaded down with 
 diamonds, and get a ransom from him of eighty thousand 
 ducats, by my soul ! you need not be frightened of me ! " 
 
 For at the sight the financier has started back 
 astounded and aghast. 
 
 "Come in, and have a bite with us," continues the 
 General hospitably. "We're just finishing breakfast, 
 and the Comtesse Dillon will be happy to receive you 
 and do the honors." 
 
 He waves the astounded financier to a seat, for like 
 most Irishmen, O'Brien Dillon has that peculiar faculty 
 of accepting the good things the gods have given to 
 him, very much as if he deserved it, and along with his 
 wife 'he has taken possession of the grand mansion 
 (given to this lady by the Regent, though he does not 
 know it, and furnished with all the taste, and splendor, 
 and lavishness of the Royal Exchequer) as easily as if 
 he had earned it by the sweat of his brow, or the blows 
 of his sword. 
 
 But the gentleman he speaks to is a man of equal 
 presence of mind and resources.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 219 
 
 Monsieur Lass comes in, claps O'Brien lightly on the 
 shoulder and says: "I'm happy to see you. As you 
 suggest let bygones be bygones. I did what I thought 
 best for my niece's interests; but as you have won a 
 title, and she accepts you again, I have nothing more 
 to say." 
 
 Then he runs on, a twinkle in his keen grey eyes: 
 "We had supposed you dead. News had come that you 
 had fallen at the battle of Belgrade! " And there is an 
 attempted sigh in his voice as he murmurs: " Hilda, 
 this will be hard news for the young Duke." 
 
 " Oh, divil doubt it! " laughs O'Brien. "There will 
 always be plenty of moths after such a flaming light as 
 this! " and he points to Hilda, who is even more charm- 
 ing in the ne'gligJ of the morning, with its alluring laces, 
 lawns, and broideries, and flowaway sleeves and float 
 away train, to give ruffled petticoat and delicate hosiery 
 and petite slippers a chance, than she had been in the 
 full dress of the evening before. 
 
 So they all sit down together, Monsieur Lass kindly 
 taking a pipe to accompany the Comte of the Empire. 
 
 Soon they are a merry party. 
 
 For on hearing O'Brien's account of his darling's 
 note that had come to him telling him of a waiting wife, 
 and how he had popped into the house to find himself 
 just as much a home as if he had been born there, 
 Monsieur Lass gives one or two piercing glances at 
 Hilda that bring color to her cheeks, and though he 
 strives to fight them down, for the life of him cannot help 
 tears of merriment. 
 
 On this, the newly made Comtesse covers her confu- 
 sion by bursts of laughter at Dillon's story, and O'Brien 
 joins with her from very pride and joy. 
 
 " Yes, your return home must have been a delight to 
 Madame Hilda!" giggles the financier, his eyes twink- 
 ling and his thin lips smiling the cold smile of the man 
 who discerns. 
 
 A little after, however, the Irish benedict puts this 
 doting spouse in a pet and makes Monsieur Lass very 
 meditative. Chancing t<> have no lighter Convenient for 
 his pipe, O'Brien, after the easy manner of a man in his 
 own house, picks up a sheet of paper lying upon a neigh- 
 boring table, and is about to make use of it.
 
 220 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 "Not that!" cries Hilda, suddenly. "It's a poem 
 a great poem in manuscript! " 
 
 "Faith, I always loved the muses! " remarks Dillon, 
 easily, and commences to peruse the document; but 
 soon bursts out very much after the manner of a man 
 who is determined to be the head of his own household. 
 "What's this I see?" he says. "A poem to the 
 beauteous Madame de Sabran, by Poinsinet ? " 
 
 " Yes," remarks Monsieur Lass. " He is one of the 
 foremost litterateurs of the day ; he wrote the celebrated 
 poem called ' The Circle. ' ' 
 
 "Then he could put his pen to better use than writ- 
 ing up, with so much ardor, the beauties of that baggage 
 Sabran ! I have heard of her. Bedad ! in Vienna they 
 call her 'The Princess of Paris.' She's the Regent's 
 jade." And Dillon coolly crumples up in his big hand 
 the verses Monsieur d'Orleans had paid Poinsinet to 
 write to the charms of his adored, and uses them to 
 ignite his tobacco. 
 
 "Take a light yourself, Uncle Johnny! " he says, 
 complacently. "Up go the charms of the naughty 
 minx in smoke ! " 
 
 At this Lass gives two horrible suppressed gasps of 
 laughter, and remarks: "Don't you know that Madame 
 de Sabran is the most beautiful woman in Paris ? " 
 
 "No, she's not," cries O'Brien, stontly "the most 
 beautiful woman in Paris is there ! " and he points to 
 Hilda, who is blushing, yet biting her lips till they 
 bleed. "I will defend the charms of the Comtesse 
 Dillon against those of any other woman in the world, 
 with sword and pistol. Faith, who should be a better 
 judge of her beauty than her husband ? " 
 
 " Quite true !" replies'Lass. " Though they say that 
 Madame de Sabran looks very much like the Comtesse 
 Dillon." 
 
 "Yes, and the nearer she comes to her, the more 
 lovely the baggage will be!" answers the uxurious 
 Irishman, turning admiring eyes upon the beautiful face 
 that is opposite him, which is now a mass of blushes 
 mingled with uneasy laughter. 
 
 A moment after O'Brien goes on quite dictatorial!}', 
 for he has been used to command in camp, and does 
 not propose to give up his epaulettes when in his own
 
 A PRIM ESS 01 PARIS. 221 
 
 house: " Comtesse Dillon, I have a slight suspicion 
 that you know this Madame de Sabran. Do you ? " 
 
 "Yes," stammers Hilda, " s-s-slightly." 
 
 At which Uncle Johnny gives a hideous chuckle under 
 his breath. 
 
 " Now I think of it," cries Dillon, " as I was poking 
 about one of your bureaux this morning looking for a 
 place to store my extra uniform, I ran across an 
 envelope addressed to her. Are you intimate with this 
 Madame de Sabran ? " 
 
 ' ' Y-e-es ! " This is a half sigh from the lady addressed. 
 
 "Great powers! Mayhap she visits you." 
 
 "Sometimes!" giggles Lass, the smoke from his 
 pipe seeming to get into his throat and stifle him about 
 this time. 
 
 "Then, Hilda, you have my commands," continues 
 Dillon, "Madame de Sabran is never to put her 
 naughty foot in this house again. I'll not have the 
 Comtesse Dillon associating with the likes of her. 
 You hear me ? " for Hilda has given a half gesture of 
 dissent at his words. "THAT SETTLES IT! " 
 
 And Comte Dillon goes on smoking placidly, and 
 believes it does settle it, though a hasty glance that 
 passes between Hilda and Monsieur Lass, means that 
 IT SETTLES HIM! 
 
 For the financier's look is very serious, and the 
 Comtesse Dillon's eyes are blazing, her face crimson, 
 and her little foot in its silken stocking and petite slip- 
 per is beating a devil's tattoo on the rug beneath it. 
 She has not been accustomed to being dictated to by the 
 Regent of France, and does not take it very kindly 
 from her new found lord and master. 
 
 A few remarks of the latter tend to precipitate his fate. 
 
 He casually insinuates that in a day or two he'll 
 take his wife's fortune under his protection women are 
 better on an allowance. 
 
 "Not that I'll stint ye, my darling but home is 
 the place for ladies "who love their lords, and they 
 think all the more of their husbands if they have to 
 ask them when they want extra folderols, " he gener- 
 ously adds. 
 
 This makes Madame Hilda pout and bite her red lips 
 at a great rate.
 
 222 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 In tne next breath, the doting husband announces 
 after a month or two of the delights of Paris he shall 
 take the Comtesse Dillon back with him to Vienna, 
 to show her beauty at the Imperial court. ' ' Parbleu .' " 
 he remarks, "that will be a hint to a certain arch- 
 duchess, of the reason that O'Brien Dillon never had 
 eyes for her entreating glances." 
 
 A little of this makes the conversation lag, for Hilda 
 seems to have gone into a brown study, and Uncle 
 Johnny's pipe goes out very often as he smokes it medi- 
 tatively. 
 
 The Irishman finds he is doing all the talking him- 
 self, and very shortly suggests: "Comtesse Dillon, 
 my darling, run and get your doting husband's coat. 
 I'm bursting to tell my good fortune to my friend 
 D'Arnac! Egad! you should have seen the fellow look 
 at me when I showed him your letter. He seemed more 
 surprised than even I." 
 
 "Very well, darling, " replies his spouse, whom his last 
 sally has nearly driven in confusion from the room. 
 "Here is your coat. Am I not obedience ? I'm more than 
 that. Go off and make a night of it with your old 
 comrade. When you return, "here she turns roguish 
 eyes on him, " you will find in your home the wife who 
 loves you! " 
 
 Then giving him one or two very sweet cai esses, 
 and calling him her wild Irish boy, she sends O'Brien 
 Dillon, Comte of the Empire, out into the streets of 
 Paris, with very proud and haughty stride. 
 
 As soon as he has gone, Hilda, taking a quick look 
 around the room, falters: "What shall we do? If he 
 hears I am Madame de Sabran Man Dieu! What 
 may he not do to me ! " and she wrings her hands. 
 
 " Do you love him now?" laughs Lass. 
 
 " Not well enough to be taken to Vienna by him 
 not well enough to be called a jade and forbidden to 
 put foot in my own house not well enough to have my 
 property coolly taken as his not well enough to be the 
 slave of an Irish general, when I have the Regent of 
 France at my feet! " cries Hilda with blazing eyes and 
 crimson cheeks. 
 
 " I had supposed that would be your determination. 
 In fact it is the only one of common sense! If
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 223 
 
 D'Orleans hears of this good-bye the Regent of 
 France good-bye Madame's dream of glory and wealth 
 and power! That would not suit you, eh ?" sneers the 
 financier. 
 
 "No! but what to do ? " 
 
 "Oh, leave that to Uncle Johnny! " remarks Monsieur 
 Lass complacently. " And now to other matters. You 
 must see D'Orleans immediately! The next concession 
 that I have proposed for the India Company, we must 
 have at once. Your words will help us ? " 
 
 " Don't I know that very well ? " laughs Hilda, who 
 seems to have regained confidence and spirit at the 
 Scotchman's words. Then she says coaxingly, yet 
 imperiously: "My twelve hundred shares of the new- 
 stock ? " 
 
 "Yes, when it is issued." 
 
 " Don't forget! or perhaps you had better make it 
 fifteen hundred.". 
 
 "Fifteen hundred it shall be, ma belle financier! " 
 remarks Lass. " But you must give up O'Brien Dillon 
 into my hands! " 
 
 " That I will, with pleasure, with delight, with JOY! " 
 cries the changeable beauty. 
 
 "Perchance Monsieur d'Arnac, the young gentle- 
 man who escorted you on that wild night ride, may 
 console you for the loss of husband ? A letter reached 
 the wrong man eh, ma belle ? " 
 
 And with these words, and a cool, sinister smile, 
 Monsieur Lass steps hurriedly out of Madame de 
 Sabran's house, and going to his bank with clouded brow, 
 sends for the Prince de Conti. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE FIRST MASSE SHOT AT BILLIARDS. 
 
 AT HIS message De Conti, who is very much interested 
 in most of the schemes of Monsieur Lass, comes 
 hurriedly to the Palais Mazarin. 
 
 In the private office of the bank the .two hold earnest 
 conference.
 
 224 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 After hearing the banker's story, De Conti remarks: 
 " Little Cupid de Moncrief helped me with the other man 
 who was in our way. Supposing we get the advice of 
 Monsieur le Procureur du Roy ? This matter should be 
 done legally." 
 
 A messenger being sent, half an hour afterwards 
 Charles de Moncrief is shown in. He listens placidly 
 to De Conti's advice, and Lass' description of the affair 
 a great deal of which he knows much better than the 
 gentlemen who tell it. 
 
 Then after meditation he replies slowly: "If you will 
 leave the matter to me, I think this Irish general from 
 Vienna will trouble you and his pretty wife no more." 
 
 " But this must be done legally ! " argues De Conti. 
 
 "And you, Monsieur le Prince, would come to the 
 Procureur du Roy," says Cupid, drawing himself up, 
 with stern dignity, "to suggest anything outside the 
 law ? This affair shall be accomplished legally. But I am 
 to have fifteen hundred shares of the new stock! " 
 
 "Fifteen hundred!" groans De Conti. " Mafoi ! 
 what will be left for me ? " 
 
 But Lass is a greater man than De Conti. He knows, 
 though the price asked is high, the service is worth it. 
 He says hurriedly: " There will be plenty for you, 
 Monsieur le Prince, and for all of us before long. The 
 fifteen hundred shares of the new stock, when issued, 
 shall be yours, Monsieur de Moncrief. Only you must 
 do as you promised, legally and at once for speed is 
 vital ! The Regent must give us a further concession. 
 Then we will have a whole hemisphere to draw upon 
 THE NEW WORLD! 
 
 "France is four thousand miles away from it; we can 
 throw around Louisiana the fable of romance. We 
 can have gold mines there and none can say us nay. 
 We can talk silver mines and none can say we lie. The 
 diamonds of Golconda will come to us and who shall 
 say where they come from, but above all, behind 
 this proposition, we have the great undeveloped, 
 exhaustless wealth of a new land that some day will 
 be greater than any country of the globe. I have had 
 reports from trusted agents in Quebec and Canada. 
 I have also the secret report of the Chevalier La Salle, 
 who explored the Mississippi, from those great inland
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 22$ 
 
 fresh water seas to the Gulf of Mexico, and it states 
 the land is grander and will be more productive than 
 all of the colonies that once made old Spain the 
 richest country ever known ! " 
 
 With this he expands into a scheme of glorious colo- 
 nization and development that, had it been carried out, 
 would have caused a French civilization to come to 
 both America and the East Indies, instead of the Anglo- 
 Saxon one that triumphed forty years after, because 
 France ran away with a prosperity that came to it too 
 unexpectedly and too suddenly, and went crazy in its 
 impulsive Gallic way, because in six years Monsieur 
 Lass raised it from utter poverty to a prosperity until 
 that time unheard of. 
 
 At him with open mouths and watering lips both his 
 co-adjutors gaze. They are both greedy to the 
 hearts' core, and such visions of boundless wealth as he 
 predicts makes them drunk with love of money. 
 
 De Conti whispers, with rolling eyes and trembling 
 lips, to De Moncrief as they depart together : 
 " Morbleu ! if he can do what he says, what a pie for 
 us to pick, my little Cupid. " For in this Prince's 
 ignoble, yet bizarre brain, has come a scheme not only 
 of picking the pie, but of picking every one connected 
 with it, and picking them clean as ever starving dog 
 picked unexpected beef-bone. 
 
 But this makes Cousin Charlie work very hard for his 
 fifteen hundred shares of new stock. 
 
 De Moncrief goes to cogitating, and thinks it is just 
 as well that he should see the whereabouts of the gentle- 
 man on whom he is to put his evil eye; concluding, 
 from what Monsieur Lass has told him, D'Arnac's 
 quarters will be as likely a place as any in Paris to find 
 O'Brien Dillon. 
 
 Strolling over by the Bridge Au Change, he marches 
 straight through the broad Boulevard de Palais, over 
 the He de la Cite, and crossing by the Pont St. Michel, 
 soon finds himself at the Rue Christine, just in time to 
 take part in a very jovial dinner. 
 
 At the table O'Brien Dillon is enthusing over his new 
 found happiness, and announcing his Hilda is more 
 beautiful than ever, though a little wayward. " Bedad! 
 though, I soon showed her that I was the cock who
 
 226 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 would crow in that barnyard. I burned up a poem 
 written to that jade De Sabran's eyebrows, and ordered 
 the -Comtesse Dillon never to let the trollop in my 
 house again." Then his eyes grow severe. "What 
 the divil are you giggling for, Lanty ? " he cries. 
 "Divil take you! I don't know what's come into ye. 
 For the last three hours you've done nothing but 
 grimace. It's that little Rosalie has made you too 
 happy, but it's not nice for a servant standing behind 
 a man's chair to take part in the amusement of the 
 company. Where are your manners ? " 
 
 At which Lanty exits, though they can hear his 
 merriment through the open door. 
 
 To his greeting Dillon says affably: "I'm right glad 
 to see ye, Charlie de Moncrief. We'll have some great 
 nights of it in Paris together and I'll show you my new 
 stroke at billiards. I'm going to astonish Paris with it 
 to-night. Raymond, I think I can win a thousand 
 crowns at least this evening. Lanty has picked out the 
 place. It's a billiard cafe on the Quai des Augustines; 
 there's quite a little sprinkling of the high-betting nobil- 
 ity in the place each evening. 
 
 "The stroke is a peculiar one?" asks Cousin Charlie. 
 
 "Faith, it's the most wonderful punch with the stick 
 ever invented. It's like the work of a wizard or a 
 sorcerer. I've me stick which Lanty made me for the 
 purpose, with a piece of leather stuck on the end of it. 
 Come and see me do the stroke to-night, Monsieur 
 le Procureur. Raymond is too much interested in the 
 young girl who saved both our lives to come with me. By 
 the blessing of God some day we'll make her an actress." 
 
 For Raymond has used Mademoiselle Quinault as an 
 excuse to get away from his friend, whose eternal bab- 
 bling of the beauties of Madame Hilda drives him to 
 despair. 
 
 After a little, O'Brien gets to explaining his wonderful 
 shot to them more definitely, finally illustrating it by 
 making coins spin and telling them it will perhaps 1 
 frighten ignorant lookers-on. "Devil take me," he 
 laughs, "perhaps they'll think me a magician! " 
 
 On hearing this a bright yet sinister gleam twinkles in 
 Cousin Charlie's eyes. He says- '"When do you da 
 the shot ? "
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 227 
 
 "This evening. You can see me if you'll come to 
 the Cafe St. Michel, near the bridge of that name, on 
 the Quai des Augustines, about nine o'clock." 
 
 " Thank you," replies Cousin Charlie; "your explan- 
 ation of the stroke has very much interested me. I will 
 try and witness your triumph." 
 
 A little after he takes his leave, for De Moncrief" has 
 a good deal of work to do this afternoon and now 
 thinks he sees his way to doing it. 
 
 Then Raymond departs for the Hotel de Chateau- 
 brien. 
 
 So, a little before nine, on this bright evening, which, 
 though dark, seems very pleasant to the happy and con- 
 tented soldier of fortune, O'Brien Dillon, attended by 
 Lanty carrying his "magic wand," as he calls it, steps 
 into the Cafe St. Michel from the Quai des Augustines. 
 
 The Seine is flowing dark and silent beside the street 
 that is almost deserted now, though a few people pass- 
 ing from the He de la Cite" across the St. Michel Bridge 
 move along the street. 
 
 But if it is dark without, the cafe inside is bright with 
 many burning candles and a few oil lamps. Its two 
 billiard tables are made with board beds and solid wooden 
 cushions, and have some holes upon their surface, 
 into which the players of that day sometimes drove their 
 balls, very much as boys play marbles at the present 
 time. 
 
 These are surrounded by a crowd of excited players, 
 among them several of the young bloods of the 
 court, who have just taken up this amusement. 
 
 With these gentlemen Dillon soon makes himself con- 
 spicuous; announcing himself, in his easy Irish manner, 
 as count of the Empire, and a general in the Austrian 
 service, "and the best billiard player that ever put mace 
 to a ball!" 
 
 "Indeed, I doubt that, with your permission, 
 Monsieur le Comte! "says a young gentleman, standing 
 by. " Permit me to introdure myself the P.nnm <!< 
 Pontineux! I shall be proud to uphold the honor of my 
 country in any game of skill you may suggest ! " 
 
 " Very well, hu/urds and cannons! " remarks O'Brien, 
 "for one hundred livres ! " 
 
 "Agreed! " replies the young gentleman.
 
 228 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 And the two take off their coats, as the stake is 
 rather high; O'Brien Dillon removing also his cavalry 
 sabre that clanks at his heels, and his pair of trusted 
 pistofs, to give greater freedom to his arm and move- 
 ment of his body about the table. 
 
 The two go to playing, and find themselves quite 
 evenfy matched. After a game or two, the stakes grow 
 higher, and the crowd leaving the other table gather 
 about to witness the more exciting game. 
 
 During this time the cafe has been filling up rapidly, 
 and not by any means with gentlemen of station or 
 rank. A number of more commonly dressed people 
 surround the table, a few of these almost disreputable 
 as to their clothes, bearing and odor. 
 
 "Parbleu! " remarks the young baron, "Mine host, your 
 company have a greasy smell about them this evening! " 
 
 This makes a few of those standing around 
 growl, but O'Brien laughs nonchalantly: "Pay atten- 
 tion to your game, my dear Baron. Don't bother your- 
 self with the canaille. Let the poor creatures look at 
 gentlemen at play." 
 
 So the game goes on, with varying fortune, the 
 stakes always growing higher, until they have wagered 
 one thousand livres on the result. 
 
 And now O'Brien Dillon, with the true soul of the 
 gamester who will win or lose all at the hazard of a die, 
 remarks carelessly: "By Saint Patrick! you seem to 
 doubt my skill, my young friend. Perhaps you do not 
 think I can make this shot the carom from the red to 
 white!" 
 
 "That is impossible for mortal man! "answers his 
 opponent decidedly; for the stroke, a very simple one 
 to the players of to-day, was unheard-of, unthought of, 
 and absolutely impossible to the implements and skill 
 of the experts of that time. 
 
 " Very well; look on me and see me do it! " 
 
 "Not for five thousand livres!" cries the Baron. 
 Then he examines the shot and remarks; "Your ball 
 would have to run forward and then run back. IT WOULD 
 
 BE CONTRARY TO THE LAWS OF GOD ! " 
 
 "Then see me break the laws of God! I take that 
 bet, and I'll double it, if you've got the stomach for me 
 skill! " chaffs the general lightly.
 
 A PKINCKSS OF PARIS. 229 
 
 " Take it ? Of course I do! Never was ten thousand 
 livres gained so easily ! " replies the young man. 
 
 And numerous other bets are offered to this Irish 
 general, whom those surrounding him think insane to 
 offer such a wild proposition. 
 
 One or two, however, shudder and say: "It is wicked 
 to bet, for if he wins it will be the black art." 
 
 Taking all these wagers very rapidly, until there are 
 no more to bet against him, O'Brien Dillon, who likes 
 the coup de theatre, says: "Behold me! Now Lanty 
 bring me MY MAGIC WAND!" 
 
 This remark is indiscreet, for half the people of that 
 day believed in magic the other half feared it. 
 
 "Coming, your Honor! " cries Lanty, bringing the 
 weapon demanded. 
 
 " This is the magic of it! "cries O'Brien, and taps 
 the leather, at which some of them look upon him with 
 frightened eyes. 
 
 Then he cocks the stick on high, and in a bungling 
 manner, but still effectively, strikes straight down upon 
 the ball, the leather tip catching the sphere and giving it 
 what is now called reverse English. 
 
 With gaping lips and open eyes the crowd watch. 
 The rolling ball flies along the table and strikes the red, 
 then of course it must go forward on its path. 
 
 It stops! Horror! It is coming back! Horror! Hor- 
 ror! It takes a wondrous and mysterious curve and 
 caroms on the white. Horror! MAGIC! HORROR! 
 
 "I'll take your money, my young friend," cries O'Brien 
 Dillon, delighted at his stroke, though it would have 
 been no great performance to-day and grins in 
 triumph at the shuddering crowd. 
 
 BUT NOT FOR LONG ! 
 
 There is a cry of horrified terror from the 
 assemblage, and shouts of : "The wizard! the wizard 
 of Notre Dame, has come back! The sorcerer! 
 Burn him! Into the Seine with him! Drown him or 
 he'll murder us with the black art!" "Demon!" 
 "Magician!" "Asteroth!" " BicF.i./i-.in'i; ! " and other 
 wild and awful screams. 
 
 And with this shriek the crowd are upon him, and 
 before O'Brien, taken by surprise at this tremendous and 
 unexpected rush, can grab sabre or pistols, he is seized
 
 230 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 by a hundred superstitious arms and tossed in the air 
 and dashed to the earth. 
 
 In scarce a second he has no clothes on his back and 
 is naked as when born: some thieves purloining one or 
 two very fine diamonds the sorcerer has upon him. 
 
 In a flash and a yell they are out upon the Quai, and 
 have dragged him over the stones, banging him about 
 till he is nearly insensible; but all the time rushing the 
 fainting Irish Asmodius rapidly along. 
 
 Lanty, who is fighting with arms and feet, sees his 
 master disappear in the distance, but can't make after 
 him, being even now engaged with a couple of billiard 
 markers and three or four garfons of the street. 
 
 A minute after with one billiard marker left for dead, 
 and the breath almost out of the other, he breaks from 
 them and reaches the Quai des Augustines. 
 
 O'Brien Dillon and the crowd have vanished. 
 
 He thinks he sees them on the Bridge St. Michel, 
 and rushes after, but in the darkness and the narrow 
 streets of the oldest part of Paris, he misses them. 
 Then he wanders searching for half an hour, and 
 finally thinks he must have aid. 
 
 Though his own coat has been torn from him, he goes 
 wildly over into the main portion of the town, and 
 flying to the Rue St. Honore has pointed out to him 
 the Hotel de Chateaubrien. 
 
 There, after some confab with the flunkeys, and 
 piteously begging to have a word with the Comte d'Arnac, 
 he is finally admitted. 
 
 His appearance is more that of a drunken man, or a 
 maniac, than of a being of common sense; but Raymond, 
 Seeing that his face is very serious, cries: "Come in!" 
 and drags him into a bright room where pretty Mimi and a 
 lovely girl who has just been giving some recitation, or 
 reading, look at him with startled eyes. 
 
 To them he tells his story. 
 
 "Pooh! it's nothing only a riot! Trust O'Brien 
 Dillon to get out of that! " remarks D'Arnac. 
 
 "But they said 'BURN HIM! ' they yelled ' INTO THE 
 SEINE WITH HIM? '" answers Lanty. 
 
 " Then I'm with you in a minute," replies Raymond, 
 and they leave the two wondering women in the great 
 hotel, and coming out upon the street get conveyance,
 
 A 1'KINCKSS oF I'Aklx 231 
 
 and drive down to the Cite. They patiol its street-, 
 and make inquiry of the archers standing on duty about 
 the various bridges, but can hear no word of the 
 missing man. 
 
 Then'they drive back along the Pont St. Michel and 
 still do not come upon him, and finally return to the 
 cafe". Here they can get no information from the 
 proprietor, who is going about half crazy, for in the 
 melee one -of his billiard tables has been broken, his 
 line oil lamps have been destroyed, and half the fixtures 
 of his establishment have been made into kindling wood. 
 He gabbles: " Mon Dieu ! if I could find him the sor- 
 cerer the black art Asmodeus himself has been here ! 
 One of my billiard markers lying half dead, the other dis- 
 abled for life ! God knows what will happen! If the police 
 come upon me I am a ruined man!" and wrings his 
 hands piteously. 
 
 For the gendarmes of France of that day had very 
 much the same ideas of justice as the police of the pres- 
 ent time. They must have a guilty man, and when 
 they could not find the guilty, generally took the inno- 
 cent, if he were worth the plucking. 
 
 Here D'Arnac says: "I must have further advice!" 
 and, suddenly, thinking of De Moncrief, cries: "Cousin 
 Charlie will help me! " 
 
 They go to the rooms of the Procureur du Roy, but 
 Cousin Charlie is not in, and after waiting for him for 
 two hours the old gentleman saunters in and cries: 
 "Hallo, Raymond, my boy what's the matter? You 
 look serious." 
 
 "Yes Count Dillon! He played his great shot with 
 his magic stick, and the crowd seized him and cried: 
 'Sorcerer! into the river.' ' 
 
 " And divil a one of the spalpeens paid their bets," 
 adds Lanty ruefully. 
 
 "Did they put him in the river?" asks Cousin 
 Charlie hurriedly. 
 
 "No; I think not. We can't tell what's become of 
 him." 
 
 ' ' Then let us go to the Lieutenant of Police. My name 
 will gain us instant admission even at this time of 
 night," remarks De Moncrief, who apparently is anxious 
 about the Irish General's fate himself.
 
 232 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 They drive, rapidly to the bureau : But the head of 
 the office is not in, and a gentleman who represents him 
 named Celestin, with mild eyes and placid face, does 
 not know anything about it, and cannot tell, though he 
 makes inquiries with apparent great care among his 
 officials. 
 
 But none know anything of Count O'Brien Dillon, 
 and none ever do know anything of Count O'Brien 
 Dillon, for though D'Arnac tries both police and munic- 
 ipal authorities, and even goes to the court, and then 
 to his old chief, the Due de Villars, and Prince Eugene 
 of Savoy writes a letter to the Regent of France, asking 
 what has become of his officer, it is almost as if this 
 earth had never known O'Brien Dillon, General in the 
 Army of Austria, and Count of the Empire, after he 
 made his magic shot in the Cafe St. Michel on the Quai 
 des Augustines. 
 
 Doubtless he is dead! 
 
 At least his two-honeymoons bride thinks so. For 
 after a very little time she produces his drafts upon 
 Uncle Johnny's bank, and makes Monsieur Lass liqui- 
 date them to the last livre, and takes possession of 
 plunder of the Turk for the beautiful Hilda de Sabran 
 has all the diamonds of the Ottoman Vizier, and the 
 great crescent and its star blazes on her fair brow at 
 many a court festival and many a theatre fete and many 
 a Regent's supper party. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A NIGHT AT THE FRANCAIS. 
 
 BUT though others give up the search for O'Brien 
 Dillon, Raymond does not. 
 
 "A general and a count, " this young gentleman 
 reasons, with all his pride of rank, "was not born to 
 conquer the Turk and then be slain by the scum of a 
 billiard cafe". " 
 
 He continues his inquiries and investigations, and 
 finally offers a reward of five thousand livres to any one 
 who can give him information tending to elucidate the
 
 A PR1NCKSS OK PARIS. 233 
 
 mystery of his friend's apparent disappearance from the 
 face of the earth. 
 
 "You're very foolish, my dear boy," remarks Cousin 
 Charlie on hearing of this step. " If the police cannot 
 find him, how can any one else ? " 
 
 "I do not trust the police," replies D'Arnac hastily. 
 
 "Not trust them!" ejaculates De Moncrief, appar- 
 ently very much shocked at this lack of respect for the 
 powers that be. "Why not? The Bureau de Surete 
 have made every effort." 
 
 "Yes, apparently," rejoins Raymond, "but Celestin 
 has never even taken the trouble to have the morgue 
 watched for Dillon's body. Therefore I argue Celestin 
 knows where my friend is. If the head of the bureau 
 knows, some of his underlings also do, and it is to their 
 avaricious souls my reward is offered." 
 
 " Mon Dieu! five thousand livrts won't tempt any- 
 body NOW!" sneers De Moncrief. "They can make 
 ten times that amount gambling on the Rue Quincam- 
 poix in Monsieur Lass' Mississippi securities." 
 
 For it was now the year 1718, in which commenced 
 the first little wave of that gigantic stock speculation 
 which was ultimately to make Paris crazy. 
 
 " Pardieu ! but some of them have no money to make 
 a beginning. That one may come my way ! But I have 
 other affairs on my mind!" returns D'Arnac, rising. 
 
 "Oh, of the theatre La Quinault's dtbut is arranged 
 for June i4th ? " queries De Moncrief. 
 
 " Certainly! " 
 
 "Then what troubles you ?" laughs Cousin Charlie, 
 noting concern on the young man's face. "Will little 
 Jeanne not pay attention to La Desmares' elocution, or 
 does she refuse to practice her steps with Mademoiselle 
 Prevost ? " 
 
 "Sometimes one and sometimes the other," snarls 
 Raymond. "She has a liiable of a will of her own." 
 
 Then drawing himself up he continues: " I now go to 
 exercise my authority as guardian. She she has an 
 admirer' " This last in a kind of half sigh. 
 
 "An admirer ? Ha! ha' Ho! ho.' Who?" 
 
 "A reptile of an actor, whose head 1 will break !" 
 cries D'Arnac, and goes away, leaving Monsieur le 
 Procutx-ur with wildest hopes in his subtile brain that
 
 234 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 the fascinations of the debutante at Le Francais will 
 give him another chance at the Crevecceur estates; for 
 it is land he wants most now. 
 
 He has already made a million with his India stock, 
 and hopes to make four or five more in the big game 
 just commencing on the Rue Quincampoix, the little 
 street in which the first great scheme of stockbroking to 
 remove money from the pockets of the general public 
 and place it in the hands of promotors of finance had its 
 origin the place in which began the Paris Bourse, 
 and to which we owe the London Stock Exchange and 
 Wall Street, with all their achievements for human 
 greed and human woe. 
 
 With his efforts to. discover the fate of his friend, 
 D'Arnac has now upon his hands, perchance, a more 
 difficult duty, that of controlling the budding beauties, 
 the bizarre mind and the electric art of the young lady, 
 who, rumor has commenced to say, will make a great 
 triumph on the Parisian stage. 
 
 " Egad! she's sure to enchant him," chuckles Cousin 
 Charlie, who has seen and approved of this young lady's 
 powers of fascination. Already he forgets la Sabran 
 for Quinault's witcheries. 
 
 And this is really so, for Jeanne is becoming an 
 enchantress to every one about her, though perhaps 
 more to others than to this gentleman she playfully calls 
 her soldier guardian. 
 
 A strange bashfulness seems to overcome this young 
 lady, who is archness itself, whenever Monsieur 
 d'Arnac strolls into the theatre or sees her at his 
 sister's hotel, where la Quinault is living, greatly to the 
 envy of her brother and sister artists of the Franfais, 
 who reside in much less elegant and aristocratic 
 luxury. 
 
 On arriving at the Hotel de Chateaubrien, D'Arnac 
 gets some of this mixed with a little tantrum that 
 astounds him. 
 
 Madame Mimi comes to him and says pathetically: 
 " I'm so glad you're here. She is in hysterics in her 
 room. " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Your aunt has made me a visit." 
 
 "Clothilcle ?"
 
 A I'KIM'KM- ill I'AKIS. 235 
 
 " Yes; Jeanne chanced to return from her rehearsal 
 before the countess left and they had a fearful 
 combat." 
 
 " \\ 'beii^li! With their hands ?" laughs Raymond. 
 
 "Oh, don't jeer it was terrible! Madame de 
 t'revecoeur doesn't like Jeanne, and remarked sneer- 
 ingly to her that she was sorry she had forgotten her 
 convent teachings." 
 
 "'What does Madame la Marquise insinuate?' 
 asked Mademoiselle Jeanne very haughty and freezing. 
 
 " 'Why,' answered Clothilde, ' did not the nuns teach 
 you that if you went on the stage you would be defiled ? 
 That no actress can be buried in consecrated ground ? ' ' 
 
 " Diable ! then there was a tragedy." 
 
 " More," answers Mimi, though she can't help smil- 
 ing, " there was a scene from the Inferno. Mon Dictt .' 
 what a success that child will make upon the stage! She 
 grew two feet taller, and then WENT CRAZY! Clothilde 
 fled from her as she would from a pythoness possessed, 
 and I slipped out of the room on tiptoe. At present the 
 tragedienne is upstairs in her room doing the grand act 
 before a mirror, I imagine. " 
 
 " At present the pythoness is at your elbows!" is 
 whispered in so weird a voice that Raymond turns with 
 a start, and starts agam as he sees a figure in whicli 
 comedy and tragedy are strangely blended. 
 
 Miss Jeanne has great red exaggerated eyes, from 
 weeping. She is garbed again in convent uniform, but 
 catching Raymond's eye, she gives him the wink of a 
 soubrette. 
 
 ' ' Diable ! " cries the young man. ' ' What is the mean- 
 ing of this masquerade ? " 
 
 ''I put it on," answers Jeanne, grandly, "to go back 
 to the convent again to do penance to remove from me 
 the sin of rehearsal. " This last is said with an awful, 
 vivacious, vicious sneer. 
 
 " Then," she goes on pathetically, "I changed my 
 mind, and concluded to be a lost soul for my art's 
 sake. But hearing your voice, my young guardian 
 general, I ran down to get scolded and punished, so I 
 I could be naughty again." With this last idea she 
 gives the astonished but admiring Raymond a wicked, 
 but most enchanting pout.
 
 236 A PRINCESS <h 
 
 " Yes, you have been a very bad girl," says D'Arnac, 
 assuming a grand and martial manner. 
 
 " Of course ; that's my normal state ; isn't it, Mimi ? " 
 jeers the comedienne. " Look at him he is putting on 
 the airs of an officer. He'll treat me as if I were one 
 of his soldiers, and beat me with a cane," and making a 
 mocking military salute she stands before him in the 
 attitude of attention. 
 
 "Bah! " laughs Raymond, "You could soften even 
 the heart of a provost marshal." 
 
 " But not that of your aunt, Madame la Comtesse de 
 Crevecceur, " sneers the young lady. Then she sud- 
 denly bursts out laughing. " What have I really done ? 
 I know you came here to scold me for something." Next 
 pouts at him: " That's what you always do now." 
 
 "It is because I take an interest in you," mutters 
 D'Arnac quite tenderly. 
 
 " Ah, that's what makes me take your scoldings so 
 nicely," says the young lady playfully. 
 
 " But if it is to be a long one," interjects Mimi, 
 "suppose we all go into dinner. You can be severe, 
 Raymond, between courses. " 
 
 Over the table they have quite a little discus- 
 sion. Monsieur d'Arnac produces two letters and says 
 sternly: "Jeanne, attention!" 
 
 "Yes, General! Just one more piece of lobster, and 
 I am under your guardian thumb." 
 
 "This is a serious matter. I have a note here from 
 Mademoiselle Desmares, who threatens to give up 
 teaching you. You will not follow the old reading of 
 Ph'edres lines." 
 
 "Of course not! That's how I am going to get 
 my effects!" cries Jeanne. "And between our- 
 selves, I'm going to make a lot of them new ones 
 revolutionizers ! " 
 
 " You think you will make a success ? " queries Mimi 
 anxiously. 
 
 " I'm sure of it ! " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because all the other actresses hate me already, 
 and la Desmares cries : ' Man Dieu ! What will become 
 of the traditions of the stage ? Where Duclos made 
 them shudder, this chit is going to make them cry for
 
 A PRINCESS ()K 1'AKIS. 237 
 
 her and pity her!' and I will, too!" says- Jeanne 
 savagely : " I'll torture their hearts! " 
 
 "This second letter, Mademoiselle Heart-twister," 
 remarks D'Arnac sententiously, " is from the celebrated 
 Prevost, who, notwithstanding her great fame, kindly 
 consented to teach you stage dancing." 
 
 "Yes, I supposed she would write to you," laughs la 
 Quinault, playing with a truffle daintily. "She wants ire 
 to dance like a ballet dancer. I prefer to put emotions 
 into my skips like a comedienne. I contrive to get some 
 of my brains even in my heels." 
 
 She emphasizes the last with a sarcastic dash of her 
 fork into the truffle, which she transfers to her pretty 
 mouth; then laughs: "What's the real matter ? Why 
 .don't you come to your subject ? " 
 
 "Very well," says Raymond, sternly, "you have an 
 admirer." 
 
 ' ' A dozen, I hope. Already Monsieur le Due de Villars 
 has been to see me twice, at rehearsal, and has patted 
 my cheek, and kissed it what do you say to that? " 
 
 "I am not referring to Monsieur de Villars, or any 
 other old gentleman of the army, who may take an 
 interest in you on account of what you did for the 
 regiment of my poor friend Dillon, at Friburg, " says 
 Raymond. " The man I refer to is that cursed serpent 
 of an actor, young Arnoul Poisson." 
 
 "Oh, the ugly one! " 
 
 "Yes, " replies D'Arnac, trying to be stern. "Did 
 you deliver my message to him ? " 
 
 "Word for word!" answers Jeanne. "I said to 
 him : ' Mon Seigneur, to whom I do homage, General 
 le Comte d'Arnac has asked me, Monsieur Arnoul 
 Poisson, to present his compliments to you, and to say 
 if you ever dare to speak to me again off the stage of 
 the theatre, he will break your infernal head! ' That 
 was word for word, I believe," laughs the young lady. 
 "If I had put it in more polite language, he might not 
 have believed that it really came from a noble to an 
 actor. Then I went on, and told him ' here she 
 rises and courtesies to Mimi, ceremoniously, "that 
 Madame la Marquise de Chateaubrien had kindly 
 suggested that if I ever walked home from the theatre 
 with young Poisson again, she would like to box my ears. "
 
 238 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " Oh," cries Mimi, " I never said that! " 
 
 " No, but you looked it." 
 
 "Did I?" laughs Madame la Marquise. "Then 
 forget it," and taking Jeanne into her arms, she gives 
 her many tender kisses. 
 
 This vivacious young creature has grown into the 
 generous heart of her patroness, and has gained from 
 her love and affection, and gives it back again with 
 interest, for she returns Mimi's kisses, and purrs: "I'll 
 never be naughty again ! " 
 
 "Whenever you are," laughs D'Arnac, " I shall have 
 you dressed a la convent again; it is very becoming." 
 
 At which Jeanne goes to blushing, for she has grown 
 out of the garb, and it would make her look gawky 
 were not her figure admirable in its proportions, and her 
 small feet and beautiful ankles, of which it makes 
 liberal display, in piquant bottines and faultless hosiery. 
 
 " If you threaten me with this dress I am obedience 
 itself, tyrant," she babbles. 
 
 "Then beware! No more of Monsieur Poisson, the 
 younger! " 
 
 " Very well, make your commands and I obey," she 
 says, half mockingly, half seriously, and coming before 
 him, gives him her most humble courtesy, and mur- 
 murs, " Mon Seigneur. " 
 
 Then as Raymond goes away her eyes grow tender, 
 and she whispers to herself, "What's the matter with 
 him ? Why does he hate that ugly little Poisson ? " 
 Here suddenly a great wave of blushes flies over her 
 face and she puts her little hand upon her heart to stay 
 its wild beating. But all this day Jeanne Quinault's 
 laugh is lighter and her spirits seem to be in clouds 
 which are gilded by the brightest sun. 
 
 " I should not wonder, " cogitates D'Arnac to him- 
 self as he leaves the hotel, " if little Jeanne astounded 
 the Parisians. She'll give 'em a performance of la 
 Phtdre, the like of which they have never seen before." 
 
 He is confirmed in this opinion a moment after. 
 
 De Villars, meeting him on the Rue St. Honore, as Ray- 
 mond salutes him, suddenly turns, and putting his arm 
 within that of the "boy general," whispers in his ear: 
 "We're going to give a great actress to the public, eh, 
 won ami? "
 
 A I'KIM 'KS> <)1 PARIS. 239 
 
 " I hope so," returns Raymond. 
 
 " Diable! Monsieur Faintheart. I tell you yes," 
 cries the Marechal. "Doesn't she make me weep at 
 rehearsal every clay and the next minute go wild with 
 admiration at her graces incomparable! " 
 
 " Now, " continues the genial old warrior, "I have 
 determined to make our protegee's debut a great one. 
 The Regiment of Alsace is stationed only twelve miles 
 out of Paris. I have engaged the whole gallery for 
 myself. I shall order the Regiment of Alsace to occupy 
 it. Who should give greater plaudits to little Jeanne 
 Quinault on her entree to the stage than the brave men 
 whose lives she saved when she was a child ? What do 
 you think of the idea ? " 
 
 ' ' Immense !" answers Raymond, " It is as big as your 
 kind heart, my chief." 
 
 "And my brilliant brain," chuckles De Villars. 
 " There are only two hundred and fifty men alive that 
 she personally saved, but every recruit in the regiment 
 knows the story, and his bravas will be the loudest, 
 because he will think that will prove him one of the 
 heroes of Friburg. The officers, of course, have seats 
 below. When Sergeant Le Boeuf waves the banner of 
 the regiment with Jeanne Quinault's name upon its 
 folds, every man of them will yell as if they were charg- 
 ing a battery. Then where will Monsieur les Critiques 
 be, eh, man garfon ? " 
 
 "Nowhere! " cries Raymond. 
 
 ' ' Precisely, " remarks De Villars ; then sighs : ' ' What 
 a night it would have been for poor O'Brien Dillon, 
 their old Colonel ! What a curious fate to return rich, 
 titled, and a general, to be wiped from the face of the 
 earth in a row in an ordinary billiard cafe"! There's 
 more behind this than either you or I know, D'Arnac," 
 continues the Marechal, who has been very much exer- 
 cised over the disappearance of one of his favorite 
 officers of the Army of the Rhine. 
 
 "Yes, but I mean to solve it," replies Raymond as 
 De Villars squeezes his hand and dismisses him. 
 
 But his hopes grow gradually smaller and smaller, 
 day by day, and though he still keeps his reward before 
 the public, no clue comes to him.
 
 240 \ PR1NCKSS OF PARIS. 
 
 But even this is finally driven from his mind by the 
 approaching debut of Mademoiselle Quinault at the 
 Francais. 
 
 Assisted by Mr. Lanty, who has bee.n acting as 
 Raynold's attache since his master's disappearance, the 
 young officer finds himself engaged in an affair of 
 which he knows practically nothing, but is desperately 
 anxious as to the result. Finally he makes the wise 
 course of giving over all the details of the debut to 
 Monsieur Michel Baron, telling him to do everything to 
 make it a success, and as to money he can have a carte 
 blanche. 
 
 " With my experience and your protegee's abilities, I 
 think you need have no fear," remarks the veteran of 
 the stage, pocketing a check for a goodly amount. 
 
 "You think she has talent ?" questions Raymond, 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Talent?" replies Baron. ''''Talent! " Then he shrugs 
 his shoulders and laughs. "She's brushed fifty years' 
 cobwebs out of the Francais at rehearsal! What won't 
 she do at night! " 
 
 But notwithstanding this prognostication, as the 
 evening of June 14, 1718, draws on, D'Arnac finds 
 himself more nervous than he has ever been at any 
 stage of his life. 
 
 At two in the afternoon of the day, he wanders past 
 the Theatre Franfais. At half-past two he finds himself 
 in the Rue des Fosses Saint Germain again. At three he 
 strolls into the Cafe Procope', opposite the theatre. 
 
 Then he suddenly bolts for the Rue St. Honore, for 
 a quick and awful thought has come to him: " Per- 
 chance Jeanne is sick!" he sees so little signs of 
 movement about the theatre. 
 
 On arriving at the Hotel de Chateaubrien he is 
 encountered at the door by Mimi, who whispers: 
 "Hush! you'll disturb her you'll make her nervous. " 
 Then she falters: " Raymond, if it should not be a 
 success if little Jeanne should fail it would break 
 my heart." 
 
 "Do you think it is as bad as that ? " mutters Ray- 
 mond gloomily. 
 
 " No, I don't," cries his sister. " I know she'll be 
 a great hit. Her dresses are divine! " With this, she
 
 A PRINCESS OF I' A HIS. 241 
 
 turns on D'Arnac and says viciously: "Why do 
 you come here, to make me nervous ? Leave the house 
 this instant' The child might see you and have a fit. 
 She gave me this note for you, but don't come on the 
 stage until the performance is over." 
 
 With this missive in his hand, Raymond finds himself 
 expelled. 
 
 On the doorstep he tears it open and reads: 
 
 Mon Seigneur : 
 
 Mimi won't let me see you because she says I'm nervous but 
 I'm not I've only cold shivers. 
 
 The dresses ! Oagh ! the dresses ! 
 
 God bless you for what you've done for me ! Come to-night 
 and see a butterfly die, but don't fear for your 
 
 PHEDRE. 
 
 Turning this extraordinary effusion over in his mind, 
 D'Arnac goes back to his apartments to get more cold 
 comfort there. 
 
 Seeing Mr. Lanty, he asks him what he thinks of the 
 chances for the night. 
 
 " Faix, I think we're in a very bad way," chuckles 
 the Irishman. Then he goes off and mutters to himself: 
 " He's gone! He's getting the same crazy fever that 
 came over my poor master, when he was ruined by that 
 beast who will give me back none of my diamonds, 
 though I have been after her with prayers and impreca- 
 tions every day." 
 
 For Lanty has been beseeching la Sabran for some 
 of the jewels of the Turk with very indifferent results. 
 
 "Any way, you'll be there to applaud, Lanty," calls 
 Raymond after him. 
 
 "Bedad! Did I ever refuse free tickets?" returns 
 his servitor. 
 
 At this assurance, D'Arnac, taking out his watch, 
 suddenly thinks: "Just time for dinner before the 
 performance." 
 
 Bolting off to the Armenian Cafe in the Foire 
 Saint Germain, he meets Achille de Soubise, and the 
 two make their meal together, D'Arnac continually 
 taking out his timepiece and thinking: " In an hour 
 in half an hour in a quarter of an hour more! " 
 
 Finally the two march for the Theatre Francais, and 
 arriving near the entrance see an immense audience 
 surging into the old theatre, and brilliant equipages
 
 242 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 dashing up and delivering their loads of beautiful 
 women and distinguished men lots of them, for Paris 
 under Monsieur Lass has been growing very rich. 
 
 A moment after, he and his friend elbow their way 
 through the foyer to find the Francais nearly filled. 
 
 It is quite a military audience. Raymond sees 
 many of his old comrades of the Rhine campaign, their 
 gold lace flashing among the beautiful toilettes of 
 court beauties and the more flaming colors of the wives 
 of city magnates. 
 
 So they come crowding in till the boxes are now all 
 filled save one reserved for the Regent. 
 
 Though excitement makes almost a blur before 
 Raymond's eyes, he notes the man he had distrusted 
 four years ago Gaston Lenoir chatting to one or 
 two court ladies in De Conti's loge. 
 
 Beside him sits Cousin Charlie taking snuff nervously, 
 for just now Monsieur le Procureur is praying with all 
 his little soul la Quinault will make a mighty hit, not 
 only on the audience, but upon a certain young gentle- 
 man who seems so anxious this evening. 
 
 Presently De Villars strolls into Raymond's box, 
 attended by two or three of his staff, and chuckles to 
 the young man : " Look at the gallery ! A little surprise 
 for Mademoiselle! " 
 
 Gazing upwards, D'Arnac whispers: " The Regiment 
 of Alsace ? " 
 
 "Yes, every man primed and loaded. They are to 
 make only a little noise till I give the signal then 
 Sergeant Le Boeuf waves the banner and then, Voila! 
 Though they'll be quiet till the time comes, God 
 help the critic who utters a word against their savior. 
 I would not hiss in that gallery for the spoils of a capt- 
 ured city! " 
 
 A moment after the Regent enters; with him Monsieur 
 Lass and two ladies. 
 
 But Raymond does not notice them. The curtain is 
 going up. 
 
 The opening scenes come hazily to him. He is only 
 conscious of waiting, though the cast is a tremendous 
 one. 
 
 He has, by means of influence and money, induced 
 Baron to volunteer to play the part of Hippolyte, though
 
 A 1'R1XCK ul PARIS. 243 
 
 he had retired from the stage nearly twenty years before. 
 
 But he comes on with all his old youthful fire, gallant 
 mien and dashing bearing. He is, as he was of yore, 
 the first jeiiue premier of the stage, and above all, 
 France's greatest tragic actor. 
 
 The audience enthuse to him en masse. 
 
 But though Raymond follows his speeches to Thc- 
 ramene, he is always waiting waiting waiting for 
 Phcdre. 
 
 So it runs on to the third scene, when Jeanne will 
 make her first entree. That grand entrance where the 
 Grecian queen appears, sick with the awful longing of 
 a love she dare not gratify the unholy passion for her 
 stepson Hippolyte, for which she curses herself, yet lets 
 her imagination revel in. 
 
 As Phedre falters on, half supported by her women, 
 Raymond fears Jeanne is sick almost to death with agita- 
 tion, for the queen is like a lily bud, crushed to the earth 
 by love. But, as the scene goes on, the recollection of 
 that love revives her; the lily expands upon its stalk; 
 and, made glorious by the subtleties of remembered 
 sensuous passion, changes to a full blown rose, glowing 
 with dazzling color. 
 
 Then she commences to sway her audience, and give 
 them passion ALSO. 
 
 They gasp at her astounded Raymond and the 
 public as well. 
 
 This role that had always been to them a stilted tragic 
 declamation, becomes in her that of a loving, despairing 
 woman, and that woman not only Queen of Greece, but 
 queen of her auditors' hearts whom she begins to charm 
 by her exquisite tricks of manner and naive ways 
 of doing the little things of the play to make these 
 fascinating. 
 
 To sEnones denunciation and abuse of Hippolyte 
 all former Phedres had screamed "Ah, Gods!" This 
 one sighs it forth, and makes the audience sigh with 
 her, for she is causing them to love her and suffer for 
 her. 
 
 In this she has one potent ally to all her art her 
 beauty! which she has made pathetic in its very 
 unpretense, for her costume is a revelation of modest 
 simplicity.
 
 244 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 Before, other Phedres had appeared in fashionable 
 gowns, and had even sported Watteau plaits, balloon 
 hoops, and other modiste fads of court costume. 
 
 This one has only the white robes of ancient Greece, 
 that give full play to the graceful beauty of her limbs, 
 as from beneath its classic folds peep forth two tiny 
 feet, bare as when Raymond first saw them on that 
 Friburg night, and gleaming pink and dimpled, under 
 Grecian sandals. 
 
 Above all, she has that personal magnetism that 
 divine fire, without which even great dramatic art is 
 puny, uneffective, DEAD! for every eye pursue her as 
 she walks, and every ear drinks in the ripple of her 
 voice. 
 
 So she comes on to that great speech that tells the 
 actions, fears, and guilty blushes of a woman who has 
 in her soul a love she dare not reveal to other eyes. As 
 she speaks these lines she seems to blush and burn with 
 shame ; she seems to tremble with the hidden fire, and 
 her eyes scintillate and glow, illumined by some new 
 and strange emotion that seems to frighten her. 
 
 Is it Phedre, or Jeanne Quinault who speaks, blushes, 
 and suffers this night in the Theatre Franyais ? 
 
 A lady sitting in the semi-regal box, on her right, 
 the Duchesse de Prie, on her left hand the Due 
 d'Orleans, and behind her Monsieur Lass, noticing this 
 pathetic fire in the young actress' eyes, and following 
 their gaze, sees that they light on Raymond ; and 
 trembles herself, and pants with burning rage, and 
 mutters with pale, quivering lips: "At last my 
 RIVAL!" 
 
 For De Sabran, since her husband's disappearance, 
 has wondered with tortured pride, why Raymond came 
 not. For he has avoided her. Some half-suspicion in 
 his mind that she may guess the reason of his friend's 
 taking off, has kept him from her. For with all his 
 soul Raymond d'Arnac knows if he looks upon 
 Hilda's glorious eyes, or hears her voice, he will be 
 hers forevermore ! 
 
 Noting the wondrous beauty of this being on the 
 stage, the glories of her voice, the grace of her 
 gestures, the loveliness of her form, De Sabran 
 suddenly remembers.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 245 
 
 " It is the chit at Des Capiteines, who had the childish 
 admiration for D'Arnac, whose life she had saved; " she 
 moans in her mind. "This is the budding beauty 
 that has kept him from me! " The ivory sticks of her 
 lace fan snap with one vicious grip of her gloved hand, 
 and with all her unbridled soul la Sabran, court beauty, 
 and Regent's favorite, hates la Quinault, the budding 
 actress of Le Francais. 
 
 Just as she breaks her fan, the house breaks forth, for 
 the curtain is descending on the first act of the play, 
 and the audience has gone into a French hysterical 
 emotion but it is nothing to what is to come. 
 
 "We are just warming ourselves for our work," 
 whispers old De Villars to Raymond. "I have not 
 given the signal yet," and goes off, with tears of pride 
 and triumph in his eyes, to the green-room to kiss and 
 congratulate the young lady in whom he takes so much 
 interest. 
 
 D'Arnac, remembering his sister's injunction, hesi- 
 tates to follow him, and an instant after is seized upon 
 by De Rohan, De Soubise, and several of his friends, 
 and dragged off to the cafe Procope, opposite, to drink 
 the health of the coming goddess of the stage. 
 
 "Pardieu! he is her guardian!" is the whisper 
 among the young officers of the army and the nobles of 
 the court. " THE GUARDIAN OF LA QUINAULT! " And 
 they look at him with envious eyes. 
 
 Cousin Charlie, who has come over with the boys, 
 cries: " Sapristi 7 Are we not all jealous of you! " 
 
 Monsieur Gaston Lenoir remarks, with his polished 
 bow and Spanish smile: "Per Bacco ! D'Arnac, who 
 would think you had such an eye for beauty in the 
 street fight that night at Friburg ? " 
 
 On the stage Baron says to Mademoiselle Jeanne, as 
 she finishes bowing her acknowledgments to the 
 audience, "In the green-room, you will have your 
 choice! " 
 
 " Of what ? " whispers la Quinault. 
 
 "Of a caress and congratulation from the Regent of 
 
 France, or from Le Due de Villars, or some advice 
 
 ''as to making your fortune from Monsieur Lass. 
 
 I see they are all leaving their boxes to come on the 
 
 stage."
 
 246 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 " Then," laughs Jeanne, " I shall choose grandpapa's 
 caress first! " 
 
 In this prognostication the great actor is right. 
 
 D'Orleans, as the curtain descends, whispers to Lass: 
 ' ' She is the prettiest actress I ever saw ! " 
 
 "Yes," replies the Scotchman, "and the most 
 natural." 
 
 "Come! I will give her the kiss of royal approba- 
 tion," laughs D'Orleans, "and you, my financier, will 
 give her a hit how to make a fortune." 
 
 Overhearing this, as the two leave the box, a fear as 
 to her own loveliness the first she has ever had in 
 her life comes to De Sabran. 
 
 But little Jeanne does not know she is making any 
 enemies this night. She is unaffectedly happy. 
 
 In the greenroom she walks up to old De Villars 
 and receives his paternal kiss, and her eyes grow 
 triumphant, as he whispers: "lam proud of you! 
 Permit me to present you to his Highness, the Due 
 d'Orleans! " 
 
 Then Jeanne, making profound courtesy, receives 
 the congratulations of the first gentleman in France. 
 
 A moment after the Regent says: " Ma petite, permit 
 me to introduce to you Monsieur Lass, a gentleman 
 who will kindly give you hints as to making a fortune 
 off the stage, as well as on it." 
 
 On t*his suggestion the financier is delighted to offer 
 his assistance to the young lady in speculations in the 
 India stock upon the street; for this has now become 
 the prevailing rage, and duchesses and comtesses would 
 give much for the few words the comptroller of finance 
 whispers to the actress of the Francais. 
 
 Then the play goes on again, and little Jeanne 
 produces a new and peculiar effect in the piece. 
 
 Having made the audience adore her she makes them 
 hate those who do not love her on the stage. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! " whispers De Villars into Raymond's 
 ear, tears of rage in his honest old eyes, "that villain 
 Hippolyte does not love her! He is going to break her 
 heart damn him ! " 
 
 And the audience, agreeing with De Villars, curse 
 Baron, for all his noble speeches of indignation at the 
 love of his stepmother, until that actor, after the cur-
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 247 
 
 tain falls upon the second act, goes off with tears in his 
 eyes, and says: " Morbleu ! she is a witch ! The more 
 virtuous and noble I am upon the stage, the more they 
 hate me, because this Phedre has made them adore her 
 and sympathize with her, and think Hippolyte a cursed 
 scoundrel for loving Aricie, the other woman." 
 
 So she goes on, producing peculiar effects not those 
 of a tragedienne, but those of a comedienne of the highest 
 class, bringing tears where horror had come with other 
 actresses, until at last, in the fifth act, as Raymond 
 gazes at her, he understands what she has meant in her 
 note, by "seeing the butterfly die ! " 
 
 In this poison scene, that tragediennes make horrible 
 and awful, little Quinault comes on to die in a robe that 
 makes her look a fluttering fairy, and gives to it the suf- 
 fering pathos of a beautiful soul that sighs out its death 
 of passion its death of love in its death of body. Like 
 the butterfly, she becomes more beautiful in color and 
 effect as she dies. 
 
 The audience cry and sob and weep for her, and as 
 Parope ejaculates, " She expires, Seigneur ! " there is a 
 sigh of sorrow the being they love is dead. 
 
 Then, unheard of before in the Fran$ais, the speech 
 of Thcsee is not heard. 
 
 De Villars waves his hand and cries " NOW ! " 
 
 And Lanty, in the upper balcony, opens the action 
 with a wild blood-curdling Irish yell. 
 
 The big sergeant of the Regiment of Alsace upwaves 
 its banner, torn with Austrian shot and shell, and bear- 
 ing upon it the name of Jeanne Quinault. 
 
 And the Regiment of Alsace, with the same wild howl 
 with which they have charged many a German battery, 
 drown the more feeble plaudits of the boxes and the 
 pit though they are tremendous. 
 
 Carried away, the audience go into that emotional, 
 ecstatic, hysterical Gallic enthusiasm, such as only 
 Frenchmen have, and a captain of the Regiment of 
 Alsace shouts from below: " Throw me the banner! " 
 
 The sergeant tosses the battle-flag to him, and he runs 
 upon the stage and drapes the bowing actress with it. 
 
 Then pandemonium reigns! The pandemonium of 
 la Quinault's triumph ; for the story has got noised 
 about of her heroism when a little girl for France.
 
 248 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 It is not an affair of the theatre now it is a triumph 
 of the army a triumph of France. 
 
 One of the critics, who is muttering to himself: 
 " Diable ! what are ve coming to ? She cut a line in 
 her last scene! She has turned Racine upside down 
 for her own effects! " is suddenly tapped upon the 
 shoulder by a dashing lieutenant, who whispers in his 
 ear: "If you want to live shut your vile mouth!" 
 
 Another, who lias remarked : " She is pretty, but not 
 a tragedienne ! " receives these words in his ear, from a 
 ferocious applauding major: " Repeat that slander 
 against the heroine of the army, and to-morrow I'll 
 cleave you to your lying jaws! " 
 
 So the curtain falls upon Mademoiselle Jeanne 
 Quinault, until this evening unknown to the world, 
 now one of the greatest stars in the constellation of art. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE FRIEND OF THE ARMY. 
 
 BUT this night, which is Jeanne's triumph, is not all 
 Jeanne's happiness. Towards the last she has com- 
 menced to whisper to herself with trembling lips: " He 
 does not come. Why not ? Does he think I am not 
 worthy his praise ? " 
 
 Turning from the last plaudits of the vast audience 
 she thinks, "At last! Now he must come," but finds 
 him not. 
 
 Others congratulate her and go away; others praise 
 her and take their departure, and still no Raymond. 
 
 Madame la Marquise de Chateaubrien, who has been 
 with her off and on during the evening, and who has 
 even now tears of joy in her eyes over the triumph of 
 her loved protege, keeps gazing about for her brother 
 and wondering why he of all men is not here to say one 
 kind word to Jeanne. 
 
 Finally the two stand alone together in the green- 
 room the auditorium of the theatre, judging from the 
 sounds that come to them, is empty also. The vast audi- 
 ence have gone away, the place becomes as other thea- 
 tres when deserted, gloomy and bare a-nd desolate.
 
 A PRINCESS OK 1'ARIS. 249 
 
 The lights are being put out, but still no Raymond. 
 
 " I am unable to understand this," remarks Mimi, a 
 flicker of rage upon her face. " My brother promised to 
 come to supper with us." 
 
 "I I presume he he has forgotten," stammers 
 Jeanne. Her lips tremble and she droops her head like 
 a wounded bird. 
 
 But only one moment; then the pride of a haughty 
 spirit comes to her. She laughs, " I I presume there 
 smother ladies than us in Paris this evening. Besides, 
 sisters don't count." This is a stab at Mimi, who 
 sympathizes with her, but Jeanne, in her agony of 
 wounded pride, hardly knows what she says. 
 
 "Come, let us go home; your tremendous triumph 
 has been too great for you, dear Jeanne," whispers 
 her protectress, who sees tears upon the face of this 
 night's victor. 
 
 As they step out of the green-room towards the stage 
 entrance, in front of which Madame la Marquise's car- 
 riage is drawn up, Lanty brushes past them with glow- 
 ing eyes and excited mien, followed by two or three 
 men. 
 
 " Lanty, why is my brother not here ? " calls Mimi to 
 him imperiously. 
 
 "Faix, " answers Lanty, with jovial ease, "it's 
 because I'm afeard Monsieur d'Arnac has got work 
 that's more to his liking this night," and goes hurriedly 
 away to the property room, where they can hear him in 
 great dispute with the guardian of the theatre's stock of 
 weapons for stage warfare. 
 
 ' ' Work better to his liking this night, " thinks Jeanne, 
 and her steps become the stalk of a tragedienne as she 
 accompanies Madame la Marquise to her carriage and 
 enters the equipage in haughty silence. 
 
 " Home," mutters Mimi to her footman, and the 
 carriage drives off, Madame de Chateaubrien very sav- 
 age at the slight her brother has put upon this young 
 lady who sits with quivering lips and restless feet at her 
 side. 
 
 But as the equipage turns on to the Rue des Fosses 
 Saint Germain, Mimi suddenly screams: "They are 
 fighting in front of the theatre!" for the noise of 
 desperate combat is wafted to her ears.
 
 250 A PklXCKSS 01 PARIS. 
 
 But she has no chance to look. Just as she says 
 this, little Jeanne, with a cry soft as a swan's dying 
 note, drops limp and helpless upon her in sudden 
 swoon. 
 
 Looking at the pale face and drawn lips of the great 
 artiste who is suffering in her lap Madame la Marquise 
 mutters to herself : "This brother of mine has a very 
 careless yes, a very cruel heart!" 
 
 But Raymond is not so bad a fellow as Mimi credits 
 him with being. 
 
 D'Arnac, elbowing his way in the great crowd to get 
 near the stage entrance, after the fall of the curtain, 
 has been stopped by military discipline. 
 
 He has nearly reached the door leading to the stage ; in 
 another moment he will be upon it, greeting and making 
 happy little Jeanne Quinault, when Lanty, forcing his 
 way through the throng, gets alongside of him and 
 whispers in his ear: " The Marechal wants to see ye in 
 his box again." 
 
 "Tell Monsieur de Villars I'll be back in a moment." 
 
 " He wants to see ye NOW. He said ' order him to 
 report to me on the instant! ' Faix I think from the 
 appearance of the old gintleman, it's a matter of life and 
 death. He looked like he did at the fight at Denain." 
 
 "Very well! come with me," returns D'Arnac, guess- 
 ing the matter must be very serious from Lanty's 
 excited manner. 
 
 "I'd like to, but I've other duties to do," whispers 
 his servant. " I'm ordered to get together, as quickly 
 as p'ossible, all the Regiment of Alsace I can gather up, 
 and any officers I may put me hands on." 
 
 With this Lanty forces his way out of the foyer, 
 trampling upon the trains of the few ladies now going 
 out, with reckless disregard of silks and laces, for the 
 last of the audience is just leaving the theatre. 
 
 A moment after, Raymond is in the box of Monsieur 
 de Villars, who is seated alone, a little tremble of 
 excitement in his old hands, but the fire of battle in his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Would you like another little brush with the enemy, 
 my boy general ? " whispers the Marechal of France. 
 
 "Anything that you order, my chief," answers Ray- 
 mond, saluting.
 
 A PRINCKSS ol PARIS. 251 
 
 "Well then, to you I confide the safety, this evening, 
 of Monsieur Lass, the friend of the army the friend of 
 the Regent." 
 
 " Sapnsti ! what do you mean?" asks D'Arnac 
 astounded. 
 
 "It is a delicate little affair. Therefore I have given 
 it into your hands. I have learned within the last five 
 minutes, by this note just given to me, and signed 
 " A Friend of the Army," that Monsreur Lass, as he 
 drives home alone in his carriage, is to be arrested by 
 order of the Parliament, and that they intend to 
 hang him within ten minutes after he gets into their 
 hands." 
 
 " Diable ! " mutters D'Arnac. " But the Regent ? " 
 
 " The Regent has gone away. Monsieur Lass is 
 there alone in his box. I have warned him not to leave 
 it for the present, until Lanty can get some of the men 
 together. Lass has seen that our soldiers received pay, 
 when no one else would look to their interests. We 
 must look to our financier's safety now that this infernal 
 Parliament (which is ready to take away the privileges 
 of royalty) has decided that its first blow shall fall upon 
 the man who has given France prosperity under the 
 Regent. This note states that there are three details of 
 Exempts and Police to make the arrest. Twenty 
 immediately outside the theatre, twenty on the Pont 
 Neuf and twenty stationed outside Lass' house in 
 the Place Louis le Grand. You must get Monsieur Lass 
 safely to the Palais Royal. They will not dare to enter 
 the palace of the Regent. These are my orders! The 
 details I leave to you." 
 
 "You may depend on me ! Monsieur Lass shall not be 
 arrested," replies Raymond. 
 
 "Come I will introduce you to him," whispers De 
 Villars. 
 
 So they step over through the empty theatre, and 
 for the first time D'Arnac meets Uncle johnny face u> 
 face. 
 
 " You have made the arrangements ? " he says to the 
 Duke, a slight tremble in his thin lips, for he knows once 
 in the prison of the Conciergerie, he will be hung up 
 like a dog within five minutes, long before the troops of 
 the Due d'Orleans can batter down its massive gatss.
 
 252 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 This combat had been coming on between Parliament 
 and the Regent for some months, but this coup d'etat is an 
 unexpected step in the contest. It is the plan of De Mesme, 
 their chief president, and it has all the greater chance of 
 success for Parliament will not be in full session for two 
 more days consequently it is unlocked for. 
 
 "I entrust your safety to Monsieur le General 
 d'Arnac, " remarks De Villars. "With him I know 
 you are safe, if courage and conduct can save you. " 
 
 "lam pleased to meet you, General," replies the 
 financier, though he opens his eyes a little at the name, 
 and looks searchingly, almost cloubtingly, for one 
 moment, at the young man. 
 
 " I'll have everything safe for you in three minutes," 
 replies Raymond, " as soon as Lanty gets the men." 
 
 A moment after the Irishman comes in upon them. 
 He stares horribly at the financier, and his appearance 
 does not seem to make that gentleman over-confident, 
 as De Villars says : ' ' Into the hands of these men, whom 
 you can trust, I place you ! " 
 
 ' ' Tare-an-ages ! It's Uncle Johnny ! " mutters Lanty, 
 looking with evil eyes upon the gentleman confided to 
 his charge. 
 
 But Raymond whispers to him: "Military duty 
 obey me ! Are the men ready ? " 
 
 And Lanty, from force of military habit, saluting, 
 says: "Yes, General." 
 
 " How many ? " 
 
 "Thirty." 
 
 "Good fighters?" 
 
 " Veterans, every one. I picked 'em up fighting dr.unk 
 in the wine shop around the corner." 
 
 " Are they sober enough to obey orders ? " 
 
 " Yes, and God help the men opposed to them! " 
 
 " Are they armed ? " 
 
 "Only with bayonets, but we broke open the prop- 
 erty room of the theatre, and I have given out all the 
 Grecian spears I could find, and be jabbers I've got the 
 sword of Theseus to fight with meself ! " mutters Lanty 
 with a grin. " Here's a blunderbuss for you, which 
 aia't been loaded since Richelieu, but it will do to 
 frighten. 'em with. Its bark is worse than its bitej " 
 
 " Did you find any officers ? "
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 253 
 
 " Yes, De Soubise, De Rohan and Lenoir are 
 waiting outside for you. I told them the Marechal 
 commanded it." 
 
 "Do you think we could get him out by the stage 
 entrance without their knowing?" 
 
 " No. They've two spies there to give the alarm ! " 
 
 "Very well!" replies Raymond, and turning to 
 Monsieur Lass, he says: "If you will step into the 
 foyer so you can enter the carriage quickly, I think I 
 can arrange the affair." 
 
 " What are your plans ?" asks De Villars. 
 
 " First, to bring on a fight with the police in front of 
 the theatre. Whip them before they can obtain rein- 
 forcements. Then put Monsieur Lass in his carriage, 
 myself riding by the coachman, and drive, avoiding the 
 Pont Neuf and his house, straight to the Palais Royal. 
 It is merely a matter of time; if we can dispose of the 
 police outside before they receive reinforcements." 
 
 But to succeed in this he must act quickly. 
 
 Hurriedly telling Lanty to get his forces and attack 
 the police in the rear, as soon as he sees them engaged 
 in front, Raymond comes quickly down to the entrance 
 of the theatre, and there finds the three young officers 
 to whom he explains the affair, and who are very eager 
 to draw swords in defense of Monsieur Lass, who has 
 given them their pay, and the Regent, who will give 
 them their promotion. 
 
 Then Raymond steps out upon the street. 
 
 In front of the theatre are lounging about twenty 
 agents de Ville some in uniform others in citizens' 
 clothes but all apparently armed. 
 
 Monsieur Lass' equipage, which is immediately in 
 front of that of the Due de Villars, is drawn up some 
 ten steps away from the entrance of the theatre, its 
 coachman apparently asleep on the box, and its foot- 
 men lounging about the entrance. 
 
 The gendarmes will evidently not move till I. ass 
 comes out to his carriage. 
 
 The combat must be brought on at once. 
 
 Raymond docs so. He steps up to the foremM 
 sergeant de Ville (one whom he thinks the leader) and 
 promptly, without a word of warning, knocks him down 
 with his fist.
 
 254 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 Then, as the man lies groveling, he hisses: 
 " Canaille, clear the way for an officer of the army! " 
 
 But the canaille do not clear the way! 
 
 With an awful curse, the gendarme springs up and 
 cries to his men to arrest this ruffian ! 
 
 But that is not so easy. D'Arnac's blade has flashed 
 from its scabbard, and De Soubise, De Rohan and 
 Lenoir have run out beside him, drawing their swords 
 as they come on. 
 
 The four form, as if on parade, barring the entrance 
 of the theatre. 
 
 "That's the scoundrel who struck me!" cries the 
 leader of the gendarmes, pain making him oblivious 
 of the fact that the blow was simply to bring,on attack. 
 "Arrest him!" 
 
 Then the fight commences. 
 
 The police think they will have an easy matter of it, 
 but they do not; for there are three good swordsmen 
 opposed to them, and one a master of every art of 
 fence, the finest swordsman in France, perchance in 
 Europe Gaston Lenoir! 
 
 Even as he fights, Raymond can't help noticing the 
 beautiful play of this gentleman, as he stands by his 
 side, keeping two exempts armed with sabres, and a 
 sergeant of police with his partisan, not only at bay 
 but very busy. 
 
 " Pardi ! " laughs Lenoir, as he springs at and spits 
 the sergeant, "I have had no real play for my Toledo 
 now for months! " 
 
 But this combat will not last long. De Soubise, 
 though he has wounded one of the police, has received 
 a blow that has dazed him; Raymond has a slight 
 scratch on his left arm, and numbers would conquer in 
 the end. 
 
 But just at this moment, with a wild, half drunken 
 yell, the thirty veterans of the Regiment of Alsace 
 come into the street, from around' the corner, headed 
 by Lanty, and fall upon the rear of the amazed and 
 astonished officiers de Ville. 
 
 "God forgive the police, for we won't!" shouts 
 Lanty. And though his sword of Theseus is dull, he 
 uses it as a club, flooring- an unfortunate gendarme.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 255 
 
 With this they make very short work of the police, 
 driving them up and down the street, and scattering 
 them everywhere. 
 
 "Now is our time!" says Raymond, and orders up 
 the carriage of Monsieur Lass, but the coachman seems 
 to be dazed. 
 
 " Wake up, or I'll blow your brains out!" cries 
 D'Arnac, and the sight of his blunderbuss arouses the 
 coachman. 
 
 The carriage is drawn up, and wringing Monsieur de 
 Villars' hand, and thanking him, the financier is put 
 into it, D'Arnac mounts the box alongside of the 
 coachman, Lanty and the big Sergeant Le Bceuf of the 
 regiment (who is still waving its banner with little 
 Quinault's name upon it) take the place of the footmen, 
 Lenoir and De Rohan spring into the carriage, and off 
 they drive. 
 
 " Fast! " whispers D'Arnac to the coachman. 
 
 " Pardieu ! do you want to kill the beasts ? " 
 
 "Faster!" cries Raymond, and they fly along the 
 Rue Dauphin, towards the Pont Neuf; but arriving 
 there Raymond says: "Along the Quai Conti, cross 
 by the Pont Royal ! " 
 
 "The other is the easiest and quickest bridge!" mut- 
 ters the man. 
 
 "Obey me, or out go your brains, and I drive 
 myself! " and Raymond has the property blunderbuss of 
 the Theatre Francaisat the head of the affrighted cocker. 
 
 He remembers there are twenty policemen in waiting 
 for Monsieur Lass upon the bridge the man would drive 
 across, and altogether from the conduct of the coach- 
 man, suspects him. 
 
 The property blunderbuss is potent. They fly along 
 the Quai Conti, and cross the river by the Pont Royal, 
 and so on, by one or two roundabout streets, till they 
 reach the Palace of the Regent. 
 
 So Monsieur Lass, arriving at the Palais Royal, 
 comes in with his peculiar body of attendants, and 
 brings astonishment to the potentate of France. 
 
 As the financier is announced the Regent sends word 
 by one of his gentlemen in waiting to admit him, and 
 before selection can be made of his attendants they all 
 crowd into the supper room of Monsieur d'Orlrans.
 
 256- A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 For these entertainments are of so promiscuous 
 a character that the lackeys having orders to admit the 
 party do not feel sure in refusing any one. 
 
 So Raymond comes in because he has promised the 
 Due de Villars to deliver Monsieur Lass safe to the 
 Regent; Lenoir and De Rohan because they want 
 Monsieur d'Orleans to know that they are his very good 
 friends and zealous oificers ; Le Bceuf because he thinks 
 there may be drink money for him in the affair, and 
 Lanty, because he has made up his mind to make 
 personal appeal to Uncle Johnny for some of Dillon's 
 diamonds of the Turk. 
 
 On seeing this heterogeneous following of his financier 
 D'Orleans springs up from the supper table, crying: 
 " Diable ! What have we here ? ' 
 
 And one or two of the fair ones at his board arise 
 with little cries of fear, for the appearance of the whole 
 party gives evidence of savage fray. 
 
 "Only my friends, and I believe your obedient 
 servants, who have saved me from the police of Parlia- 
 ment to return me safe to your Highness! " replies Lass, 
 and, telling his story- he introduces the three officers to 
 the Regent, ' ' Uncle Johnny " having made the acquaint- 
 ance of De Rohan and Lenoir as they have driven along. 
 
 " My duty both to your Highness and the Marechal de 
 Villars being accomplished, if you will permit me I'll 
 take my leave,'' remarks Raymond. 
 
 " I see you have a scratch that needs looking after," 
 returns D'Orleans heartily, " so you have my permis- 
 sion. But I shall not forget you, General d'Arnac!" 
 
 As Raymond goes out he hears the Regent thanking 
 Lenoir and De Rohan for their action. 
 
 "And you, my fine fellows, " laughs the Prince looking 
 at Lanty and the sergeant, " you did your share of the 
 fighting, I presume ? " 
 
 "Yes, your Highness, if killing a policeman is what 
 you mean, " says Le Boeuf bluntly ; at which the fair ones 
 about the table who have regained their spirits, go into 
 giggles of glee. 
 
 " That's your duty. Sergeant, always remember kill- 
 ing policemen is your duty!" guffaw's De Conti, 
 " Monsieur Lass has a generous purse. What's your 
 head rate for dead sergeants de Ville, man cher Jean ? "
 
 A I'KINCKSS OK 1'ARIS. 257 
 
 "A thousand livres /" laughs the financier who has a 
 very open pocket-book for those who serve him, and he 
 hands a bank bill to the soldier that makes his martial 
 eyes open. Then Lass continues: "Here are ten 
 thousand more for the common soldiers who aided me. 
 Will you be my almoner, Monsieur Lenoir ? " passing the 
 money to that gentleman. 
 
 But as he does this the banker grows pale, for he hears 
 the too well remembered voice of Lanty speaking to the 
 Regent of France, who is screaming with laughter at the 
 Irishman's account of fighting the gendarmes with the 
 property weapons of the Coniedif Fran$aise. 
 
 Mr. Lanty is also proudly exhibiting to his Highness 
 the sword of Theseus. 
 
 " Bedad! :> he remarks, " I did as much damage with 
 it as if it had been the real thing! " 
 
 " Here is your thousand Itircs, my good fellow ! " cries 
 Lass, interposing quickly, for he fears Lanty's glib 
 tongue may make some awful confidence about la Sabran. 
 
 "Yes, that's very good in its way," replies the Irish- 
 man, "but it's the diamonds of the gineral I came to 
 ask you about, Uncle Johnny." 
 
 "The diamonds of the general! What's this a 
 new story ? " laughs D'Orleans. 
 
 "Yes, and a divilish intertaining one!" answers 
 Lanty. 
 
 But he doesn't get farther for the financier suddenly 
 ejaculates: 
 
 " Oh yes those in my charge I understand 
 To-morrow at my bank!" and fairly hustles Lanty 
 to the door, whispering: "To-morrow at twelve, 
 remember." 
 
 " Divil doubt I'll forget!" jeers the Irishman, and 
 goes away cogitating: " If I had told the Regent I'd 
 have made an awful mess, but got nothing but hate and 
 curses from any of them. Now as I've still "the seen t, 
 I think I'll make Uncle Johnny come down handsome." 
 
 The sudden entry of the Prince de Conde" and 
 Monsieur le Marquis d'Argenson fortunately keeps his 
 Highness from asking Lass inconvenient questions, 
 for ever since he has heard the news of this step of 
 Parliament, the Regent has been making his arrange- 
 ments, and his friends and confidantes have been sum-
 
 258 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 moned and a company of Musquetaires Noirs are on guard 
 in front of the palace. 
 
 A moment after the supper party breaks up, Monsieur 
 d'Orleans and his confederates go into council for the 
 attitude of the deputies of the people is a very serious 
 question for them to consider. 
 
 Going over the matter as they sit about him, the 
 Regent concludes: "We must make veiy short work 
 of this canaille Parliament, and their backer, that 
 bastard, the Due du Maine! " 
 
 "It's that accursed president of their's, that villain, 
 Jean Antoine de Mesme!" growls Conti, savagely, 
 " who's doing his bidding! " 
 
 "Let me at them!" whispers D'Argenson, who 
 remembers the insults they have put upon him as Lieu- 
 tenant de Police. " Let me at them with the seals of 
 France in my hands, and the King upon his throne, 
 and we'll crush them to the earth." 
 
 And so they do! 
 
 And in the course of the next two months. Monsieur 
 Law remaining under the protection of D'Orleans in 
 the Palais Royal itself, the Regent and his gang fall 
 upon the representatives of the people. 
 
 Though on June 27th, Parliament sends a remon- 
 strance, and on July 2d, the deputies go to D'Orleans 
 in person, and on August i2th, issue a decree 
 declaring that the administration of finance is to be in 
 the hands of Parliament, taking from the Regent and 
 Monsieur Law all power over the taxes of France, and 
 demanding an accounting of all the billets d'etat issued 
 and given to the Mississippi and Western companies, 
 as well as those taken to the mint to be exchanged 
 for specie, all these come to naught! 
 
 The Regent and his clique, De Conti, De Conde, 
 Saint-Simon, D'Argenson and all his backing, fall upon 
 Parliament, threaten them with lettres de cachet and to 
 lock them up in the Bastille. Finally, bringing the 
 child, Louis XV., into their session, D'Argenson, as 
 Keeper of the Seals, tells them the King wants to be 
 obeyed, and to be obeyed quickly! 
 
 Then D'Orleans kindly informs the deputies what are 
 the King's commands, and though their chief president 
 gnashes his teeth, they obey very quickly, and rescind
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 259 
 
 their bill taking from the Regent financial power, and 
 acquiesce in his appointment of Law as comptroller- 
 general of all the finances of France, and he becomes a 
 grandee of the Kingdom, and is addressed humbly as 
 Monseigntur, 
 
 Then the country grows apparently more prosperous 
 and richer than ever, and the people cry with wild huzzas : 
 " Long live the King and Monseigneur Lass! " 
 
 The Due du Maine has his titles taken from him and 
 is imprisoned, and Lass and his system reigns supreme. 
 
 The stockbrokers in the Rue Quincampoix cry 
 louder and louder, and the shares of the India Company 
 become more and more valuable, until finally they 
 reach par about the middle of the year 1719. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE WATER FETE AT MARSEILLES. 
 
 BUT Raymond does not remain in Paris to see all 
 this. 
 
 Coming back from his interview with the Regent, he 
 makes his way to the Hotel de Chateaubrien, and there 
 is received for a moment but indifferently well. 
 
 Madame la Marquise strides up to him as he enters 
 the salon and whispers: " You cruel one! You have 
 stabbed her to the heart! " 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "By indifference." 
 
 " Does this look like indifference ? " remarks Raymond 
 glumly,, exhibiting his wounded arm, and showing his 
 battered uniform. 
 
 " You were wounded for her ! " gasps Mimi excitedly. 
 " Some fight with those awful critics ? " 
 
 " Sapristi / " answers D'Arnac, with a mocking 
 laugh. "Though critics' pens cut deep, this is not 
 exactly a wound of their making," and gives his sister a 
 rapid history of the affair. Then he suddenly says: 
 " Where's Jeanne ? " 
 
 "In her room. She wouldn't " but Mimi checks 
 herself. She does not care for her brother to know how 
 deeply her young protegee has been affected. She goes
 
 260 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 on suddenly: "I will run up and tell her. I'm sure 
 she'll be happy to understand she did not miss your 
 congratulations by willful neglect." 
 
 "Very well," says Raymond, " while you make my 
 apologies to la Phedre, I'll help myself to supper. By- 
 the-bye," he calls after Mimi, "if you have some old 
 linen in the house, bring it back with you. I think 
 a bandage would rather improve my arm." 
 
 With this he walks into the dining-room, to find the 
 supper table decorated en fete, and undisturbed in all its 
 flowers and menu. 
 
 " Diable ! What delicate appetites we ladies have," 
 he laughs, not guessing that Jeanne, from wounded 
 pride, and Mimi, from intense indignation, had forgotten 
 to eat. 
 
 Sitting down to this, and making himself, with the 
 assistance of butlei and attendant flunkeys, very 
 comfortable and happy, Monsieur d'Arnac in five 
 minutes finds two ministering angels at his side. 
 
 For Mimi has made his peace with Jeanne, and the 
 two have come bounding down to him, bearing armfuls 
 of softest linen to save the wounded warrior's life. 
 
 Little Quinault is a sylph as she flutters around him 
 with pathetic hands. In her haste to come to the 
 assistance of the dying hero, she has hastily thrown on 
 an exquisite neglige that is all lace, furbelows and 
 ribbons, and makes her look as ethereal as the butterfly 
 Phedre, that had died upon the stage an hour before. 
 
 " To think, Mimi," cries the girl, "while we were 
 saying he neglected us, he was fighting one hundred 
 awful policemen, under the orders of grandpapa De 
 Villars, and saving the life of Monsieur Lass, who has 
 made every one in France so rich and happy, and who 
 has hinted he would make my fortune, if I would put 
 my salary upon the Bourse. By-the-bye, what is my 
 salary, Monsieur Raymond?" 
 
 "Nothing!" remarks that young gentleman hur- 
 riedly. 
 
 "Nothing?" scream both the ladies in commercial 
 horror. 
 
 "To tell you the truth, Jeanne, when I made the 
 arrangement for you, I forgot about it. No sum was 
 mentioned," mutters Raymond sheepishly.
 
 \ I'KIM ESS HI- PARIS. 26l 
 
 "Brava!" ejaculates Mimi, who has been forced to 
 become a business woman in the management of her 
 estate. " Brava! no contract name what you please 
 they'll have to pay it now ! Raymond, they must not 
 have her cheap! " 
 
 "No," answers the young man, "for little Jeanne I 
 will become as greedy as a contractor." 
 
 But business is soon forgotten in bandaging the 
 wounded warrior's arm. They make it almost a caress- 
 ing business. With two such nurses the young general 
 revives sufficiently to eat a very pleasant meal, and 
 curiously enough, appetite has also come to little Quin- 
 ault and Madame la Marquise. 
 
 There is no happier trio in Paris this night, as they 
 sit together and talk over their plans for the coming 
 star in the great dramatic world. 
 
 "You must have your own salon and establishment, 
 Jeanne; a great actress should always have a salon. 
 Raymond will arrange for a handsome suite of apart- 
 ments for you, and I will furnish you a duenna." 
 
 "Do with me what you like," remarks la Quinault, 
 "only don't don't turn your backs upon me." Here 
 tears come into her eyes and she begs: " Don't think 
 I am strong enough to fight my own battle without 
 your love, your friendship, Mimi and your far-seeing 
 brain, guardian general, to guide me!" This last a little 
 archly. 
 
 Then, as the young man is taking his leave, she 
 suddenly courtesies to him, takes his hand and kisses it 
 as she did when a child, and whispers: "Mon Seigneur , 
 this triumph of mine has made no difference between 
 us I am still your vassal ! " 
 
 This kind of thing makes Mimi tremble. She breaks 
 in, saying: "Nonsense, Jeanne! You have now a 
 great career before you ! " 
 
 "But I am still under vassalage to the man who has 
 placed it before me by his kindness, his influence, and 
 his generosity. The higher 1 am, the humbler I shall 
 make obeisance to Monsieur le Comte d'Arnac Man 
 Seigneur!" 
 
 And the coming great star in the dramatic liniiaiiK-nt 
 gives the young general a glance that sends him away 
 very proud and very important and very protecting to
 
 262 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 this beautiful creature who places herself so much 
 under his wing. 
 
 But Raymond is fated to see very little of the imme- 
 diate glories of la Quinault. 
 
 The day after her debut he receives notice of his 
 appointment to the command of the great port of 
 Marseilles. 
 
 This is a tremendous step for a young officer, for it 
 practically gives him the rank of a lieutenant-general 
 with emoluments and fees that produce a very fine 
 professional income. 
 
 This sudden luck has been owing to Uncle Johnny, 
 who, wishing to do the young man a favoi , yet fearing to 
 have him in Paris on account of various matters 
 connected with the volatile mistress of the Regent, thinks 
 this is the best way to settle the affair, and has peti- 
 tioned the Due d'Orleans to that effect. 
 
 It would be madness to refuse. Raymond accepts 
 at once, and four days after departs for Marseilles. 
 
 In doing this he leaves Lanty behind him, for that 
 gentleman has made his bargain with the financier and 
 has received as compromise for the diamonds of the 
 Turk (of which the avaricious la Sabran will not yield 
 a single one) a piece of property which is now quite 
 valuable, and as real estate is rising rapidly, promises 
 to make him very comfortable in the world. 
 
 With the title deeds to this in his pocket, Lanty 
 decides to' give up soldiering and turn innkeeper. 
 
 "Faix, I'm tired of taking plunder and playing the 
 game of ' light come quick go! ' " he remarks to Ray-' 
 rnond. " If ye will honor me by sending any friends 
 of yours from Marseilles to the tavern of ' The Turk's 
 Head,' at the corner of the Rue de Petit Lion and Rue 
 St. Denis, I'll pray for you whenever I go on my knees." 
 
 Which will not be often, as Lanty, after the manner 
 of most soldiers, is a very bad churchman. 
 
 But before D'Arnac departs, one little interview with 
 la Quinault takes place, and impresses itself upon his 
 memory. 
 
 She is already in her own apartments on the Rue de 
 Conde quite near the theatre. She has had another 
 appearance and an equally great triumph, and D'Arnac 
 has made a very good arrangement for her with the
 
 A I'KINCKSS (iF PARIS. 263 
 
 management of the Couu-'Jic FranC'iise. In a few months 
 she will become a societal) t\ 
 
 She says pathetically: "You have your walk in life 
 I have mine now this separates us, but not for long, 
 I hope. But here here is something by which you can 
 remember the little Quinault, the naughty girl for whom 
 you have done so much! " 
 
 This something is a miniature of her own fair face on 
 ivory set round with pearls; not perhaps as gorgeously 
 beautiful as the one he still has of la Sabran, with its 
 flashing diamonds but oh, how much sweeter woman- 
 hood there is in it ! 
 
 " When you hear of my. triumphs, if I ever have any 
 more," she murmurs, "look at this picture, and think it 
 is all owing to your goodness to me ! And so, good-bye, 
 Man Seigneur ! " 
 
 Then says, hysterically: "I I must not sob, for lam 
 studying a a comedy role," and cries, vivaciously: 
 "What do you think "of that? I am to make people 
 laugh ! Do you hear me ? Laugh ! Ha ! ha ! Ho ! ho ! He ! 
 he! " and, with a giggle on her dear little mouth anda tear 
 in her bright, blue eyes, Mademoiselle Jeanne bids 
 her guardian good-bye. 
 
 "It isthe best thing in the world forhim," thinks Mimi, 
 as she gives Raymond her adieu kiss, for la Marquise is 
 growing fearful of Mademoiselle Quinault's praise, which 
 is being sung every where, and imagines it just as well that 
 her brother should not have too much of it. 
 
 So Raymond takes his departure for Marseilles, leav- 
 ing behind him Paris, which is growing greater and 
 richer every day, with its increasing commerce, its 
 excited stock market, and the tremendous financial 
 operations of Monseigneur Law, that seem to scatter 
 paper money all over the land, making it rich. 
 
 l ; or now gradually developing itself, his great 
 commercial schemes of colonization and settlement 
 in both the Indies and the new world comes to the 
 fore. 
 
 Early in 1719 a decree, goes forth from the Regent 
 giving the India Company the sole right of trading 
 in all seas beyond the Cape of Good Hope, which means 
 all the East Indies, the islands of Madagascar and 
 France, and tin- Archipelago of the Indian Ocean.
 
 264 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 In addition to this, the bank of Monseigneur Law is 
 reorganized and made the Royal Bank of France, with one 
 hundred and ten million livres of capital, and that great 
 financier puts out his lines to draw into his companies 
 and schemes all the great trading interests of France. 
 
 It is with these great views of interesting the general 
 public of France and impressing upon them the grand- 
 eur of his scheme of colonial settlement and develop- 
 ment that Monseigneur Law, under the sanction and by 
 the aid of the Regent, proposes the great water fete at 
 Marseilles. 
 
 It is to be the welcome of the grand fleet bearing the 
 first great shipment for the year of the products of 
 Louisiana to France. It has been heralded through 
 the country by word of mouth and by official announce- 
 ment, and Paris is all agog for the wonders of the New 
 World that the India Company is opening to it. 
 
 It is rumored on the Rue Quincampoix among the 
 brokers, who are already becoming very rich in dealing 
 in this new stock that Monseigneur Law is touching with 
 the hand of Midas, that there is to be gold from the 
 mines of Louisiana among the shipments. The grand 
 dames of Versailles and the Faubourgs St. Honore and 
 Saint Germain are all eagerly petitioning the financier 
 for promises ' of handsome little pickaninny Indians, 
 to be decked out with their armorial bearings and 
 serve as pages, carrying their trains and fans and para- 
 sols, and, by contrasting bronze, make the lilies of the 
 fair ones' cheeks seem doubly beauteous, for it is whis- 
 pered there is a whole tribe of the savages of the Missis- 
 sippi on board the coming squadron. 
 
 This fleet is expected about the first of June of the 
 year 1719, and preparations are being made to receive 
 it in a way that shall impress not only France, but 
 Europe itself, with the grandeur and immensity of the 
 riches the New World is about to throw into the lap of 
 the India Company. 
 
 This is the idea of Monsiegneur Law, who, in some 
 things, is quite theatrical. 
 
 The necessary orders having been issued, Raymond 
 d'Arnac, as commandant of the port of Marseilles, finds 
 himself very busy in carrying them out and making the 
 necessary local arrangements, for a couple of extra
 
 A PRINCKSS OF PARIS. 265 
 
 regiments have been ordered to the place to give addi- 
 tional military grandeur to the scene, and a squadron of 
 galleys and frigates have come from the great naval 
 arsenal of Toulon. 
 
 Deputations from the merchants of Lyons, and even 
 Havre, have come to meet this first shipment of the 
 products of the new land, whose distance gives it a 
 fabled wealth. 
 
 Now, Monseigneur Lass has altogether too long a head 
 to make any mistakes of time, even in a theatrical fete. 
 
 He has received news by quick felucca that the 
 squadron of ships bearing the products of Louisiana 
 has passed the Straits of Gibraltar, and has made his 
 arrangements as to date of reception accordingly. 
 
 He is journeying to the Mediterranean by quick 
 relays of post horses, followed by a goodly number of 
 the court of France and leading financiers of the city 
 of Paris, for he has put money into the pockets of 
 many of them both nobles and commoners. In 
 his personal party, even De Conti does not hesitate, 
 notwithstanding his pride of rank, to travel. The 
 Prince de Conde and the Marechal de Noailles are with 
 him, and among the beauties in their company are the 
 pretty Marquise de Prie, the sylph-like Madame de 
 Verue, and the vivacious Locmaria; but the loveliness 
 of none is to be compared with that of la Princess 
 de Paris. 
 
 Monsieur d'Orleans, being of too easy-going and 
 lazy a disposition to trouble himself with any such long 
 journey, has delegated the Prince de Conde to 
 represent him, and has given permission, grudgingly 
 perchance, to the beautiful De Sabran to grace with her 
 presence this fete that is to be semi-royal at least in 
 magnificence. 
 
 Cousin Charlie would make one of the party, for his 
 avaricious soul is glowing with the thought of all the 
 money that will come to him from the success of their 
 grand enterprise, but his rickety old bones cannot 
 endure a journey to the Mediterranean by post chaise. 
 " Five hundred miles," lie siyhs; " parJien .' that is too 
 much for even a boy like me, to view the wonders of 
 the West. Sapristi ! but it is at this end, in Paris, that 
 the money will flow in! "
 
 266 A PK1XCKSS OK PARIS. 
 
 On this journey, the second day after they have 
 passed Aries on the river Rhone, a courier, riding for 
 his life, reaches Monseigneur Lass and his party, bring- 
 ing news that the fleet have already been sighted from 
 Cape Morgion. 
 
 Plying whip and spur, on this joyful communication, 
 they reach Marseilles, to find that the fleet have 
 anchored outside the islands of Ratoneau and Pomegue ; 
 they having been boarded by the orders of Monseigneur 
 Law and told not to enter the harbor until everything 
 was prepared for their reception. 
 
 So the sailors on their decks, after their six months' 
 voyage, sit waiting for the next day and whistling for a 
 breeze to put them once more on the shore of their 
 native France, and in the arms of their friends and 
 sweethearts, who are awaiting them on the platform of 
 the Fort St. John and gazing at them from the more 
 distant Cape Corisande. 
 
 The town of Marseilles is wildly excited over the 
 coming fortunes that this new commerce from Louisiana 
 will bring to their docks to make them rich, for at the 
 suggestion of Monseigneur Lass, the Regent is about 
 to make the city a free port. 
 
 Entering the town rather late in the evening, the 
 great financier finds most of the nobility have arrived 
 before him. 
 
 He is received, in company with the Prince de Conde 
 and his party, by General d'Arnac as commandant of the 
 garrison, the Mayor of the city and various local 
 officials. 
 
 He gives Raymond his hand warmly, for this Scotch- 
 man is a great diplomatist, and believes in making 
 every one he can his friend. Besides, Uncle Johnny, 
 remembering D'Arnac had practically saved his neck that 
 night at the Francais, forgets for one short moment the 
 part this dashing general of twenty-six has played 
 in the life of Madame de Sabran. 
 
 He is reminded of this, however, by the beauty's 
 greeting to the handsome young officer. 
 
 She has not forgotten, and as she looks on Raymond's 
 distinguished face and easy martial bearing, she has said 
 to herself: " The cup that has been twice dashed from 
 my lips shall be at last placed there. This man, from
 
 A PRINCESS <)K I'ARIS. 267 
 
 whose arms fortune has twice stolen me, shall yet be 
 mine ! " 
 
 She forgets the slight of the theatre she remembers 
 only the boy who swam th'j flooded river for her 
 sake who said: "Will you dare it forme?" whose 
 heart her's has once beaten against so wildly who 
 she had seen fight for her, one to six, that day near 
 Mieux. 
 
 If Raymond has grown more handsome, she perchance 
 has become more fascinating, for her experience in the 
 social world has made her bright intellect even more 
 vivacious. Perhaps this meeting with the man she 
 has often said to herself is still the man of her heart, 
 adds to her arch loveliness. 
 
 The other ladies of this gay company look worn, pale 
 and dusty, after their long drive of over five hundred 
 miles from Paris But she, shaking coquettishly the dust 
 of the Rhone Valley from her pretty traveling costume, 
 and displaying a foot and ankle that poor O Brien Dillon 
 used to rave about, is fresh and radiant, and apparently 
 untired. 
 
 This evening Hilda finds chance for very few words 
 with D'Arnac, but these are to the point. 
 
 She says lightly: "Oh, if I had known you were 
 here, Monsieur Raymond, I should have put on a new 
 toilette after my ride; but to-morrow I hope to do 
 honor to the fete. To-mo row, I am told, we have a 
 very beautiful pavilion prepared for us on the Isle 
 Pome^ue I presume music and a dance. You, I 
 hope, will be one of our guests." 
 
 " If my official duties permit," answers the young man, 
 dubiously, struggling with all his might against the 
 fascination of her manner, and something in his heart 
 that makes it beat again as it did at the bal de I' Opera. 
 
 "Official duty will compel you to be there, as Gen- 
 eral Commandant," she says haughtily. Then her tone 
 suddenly changes, for she notes that though his 
 words are curt, perhaps harsh, his eyes arc speaking 
 very tenderly. She says pathetically: "Not as com- 
 mandant of the forces but as Raymond d'Arnac, who 
 has hardly been kind to me since In- was once so 
 very kind that morning at Mieux. Let us forget tin- 
 four years that have passed between that time and
 
 268 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 this. They are no more! To-morrow morning let it 
 be as if Mieux was to-day." 
 
 This, emphasized with beauteous eyes and an entreat- 
 ing hand that is extended to him patrician in its deli- 
 cacy of outline makes her irresistible. 
 
 Raymond remembers also that morning at Mieux, and 
 says eagerly: "Then to-morrow we commence as if 
 Monsieur de Conti's ruffians ' he glares savagely 
 at that Prince, who is pompously addressing the Mayor 
 of the town "had not stolen you from me ! " 
 
 It is a daring speech, but De Sabran likes ardor and 
 audacity. She whispers one word into his ear, that 
 makes the young man tremble with a sudden passion and 
 as he turns to go upon his official duties, Raymond d' Arnac 
 would not exchange places with any man in France. 
 
 It is just as well he leaves her, for at this moment, 
 Uncle Johnny, who has been watching them surrepti- 
 tiously out of one of his eyes, the other being devoted 
 to a deputation of the Marseilles merchants, succeeds 
 in breaking away from his surroundings, and is edging 
 towards naughty De Sabran with the intention of cut- 
 ting short her tete-a-tete with General d' Arnac, whom he 
 recollects now TOO WELL! 
 
 Until early morning Raymond is occupied in making 
 the necessary dispositions civil, military and naval for 
 the celebration of which he has supreme command. 
 
 These being finished, he gets a few hours' sleep, 
 and arises, refreshed, vigorous, and as he thinks of the 
 word whispered in his ear the evening before elated 
 and exultant. He says to himself, his eyes lighting up 
 the fires of passion : ' ' To-day to-day she whom I 
 love is mine ! " 
 
 For like most young men D'Arnac called passion, 
 love and fleeting desire undying devotion. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " TOGETHER! " 
 
 AFTER a hasty breakfast the young commandant, 
 whistling one of Lulli's happiest airs, saunters down to 
 the main port or basin, and walks along the Quai, 
 looking at the shipping decked with bunting in honor
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 269 
 
 of tne occasion, more elated than Mcuiseigneur Lass 
 himself. 
 
 The day is warm and sultry even for Marseilles in 
 June, surrounding- hills keeping away all breezes that 
 might give comfort under the blazing sun. The white 
 walls glare, unmitigated by the green of the vineyards 
 on the hillside, for the vine leaves are covered over with 
 their summer dust. There is no sea breeze ; all is quiet 
 and placid and burning on the harbor of Marseilles. 
 
 Floating upon the waters of the tideless Mediter- 
 ranean that scarcely ripples, are five galleys in the King's 
 service that have come from Toulon, rowed hither by 
 the wretched slaves they call formats. These, decked 
 with bunting, and two or three frigates of France, 
 made also picturesque by the flags of all nations 
 displayed from lofty masts and tapering yards, make the 
 naval portion of the pageant. 
 
 The heavy frigates, driven only by the winds of 
 heaven, cannot move in the still air. The light galleys, 
 propelled by the arms of men, must do all the work of 
 conveying the semi-regal party to the Isle of Pom gue, 
 and towing thereafter the ships from Louisiana into 
 the basin of the port. 
 
 Soon word is brought Raymond by his orderly that 
 Monseigneur Lass and the Prince de Conde" are anxious 
 to proceed with the affair. 
 
 They are desirous of getting through the ceremony 
 of the reception as soon as possible, so as to journey 
 to the little island that looks so cool, surrounded by 
 the blue sea, where pavilions have been erected, and a 
 fete fit for the gods will be held. 
 
 On this isle the semi-regal party will spend the night, 
 sleeping apartments having been erected and deco- 
 rated especially for their accommodation by the order of 
 Monseigneur Lass. 
 
 The military are drawn up, the Mayor reads the 
 proclamation of the Regent making the port free of duties, 
 from the steps of the Hotel de Ville, right opposite the 
 Quai. The populace, decked in the light costumes of 
 summer, make all the borders of the basin of Marseilles 
 brilliant with moving life. The cannons thunder from 
 the Forts St. Michel and St. John and the frigates and 
 galleys in the harbor.
 
 270 A P-RINCESS OF P-ARIS. 
 
 The frigates remain motionless. No breeze is rippling 
 the water" to permit their spreading sail. 
 
 The galleys, propelled by human force the steam- 
 boats of that day dash about from quai to quai, picking 
 up the various divisions of the guests assigned to them 
 to take them first to the Isle Pomegue; then to escort 
 and, if necessary, tow the ships from the New World in 
 triumph past that island and into the basin of the 
 harbor. 
 
 One of these galleys, La Sylphide, is detailed for 
 the personal use of Monseigneur Law and his semi- 
 regal party. 
 
 It has been especially decorated for the occasion, and 
 floats the water graceful as a beautiful bird. Its two 
 short masts, with their long lateen yards, are made 
 bright with the colors of all nations. Its high fore- 
 castle, on which are mounted several culverins and 
 short light cannons for salute and offense, and its prow 
 ornamented by some dragon's head, the work of that 
 great naval designer, Le Puget, have been freshly gilded 
 for the occasion. 
 
 Its poop cabins have been decorated in blue and gold, 
 and over them waves a canopy of tapestries woven in 
 the looms of Lyons, with the arms of France. Above 
 this floats a great white silken banner, bearing the 
 royal fleur de lys. 
 
 In the eyes of the admiring multitude she looks fair 
 enough to have come from fairyland ; but between this 
 gilded forecastle and this high poop decorated with deli- 
 cate silks and satins that make awnings under which 
 beautiful women will lounge in softly cushioned chairs, 
 bent over by gallant men, happy, triumphant, pros- 
 perous is the long low waist, ONE HUNDRED FEET OF 
 LIVING HELL; peopled by wretches that have no hope in 
 this world, nor the next the galley slaves! 
 
 Driven by fifty oars, twenty-five on each side, she 
 skims the basin like a thing of life but oh, the agony 
 of flesh and blood that produces this graceful velocity 
 this birdlike agility. Three hundred formats, red caps 
 and camisoles upon them, but practically almost as 
 nude as the day they were born curse and sweat 
 under the lashes of the stalwart boatswain and his cruel 
 mates.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 271 
 
 Through the dead center of the craft, extending from 
 decorated poop to gilded forecastle, is a plank some 
 two feet wide occupied generally by the comitt, or boat- 
 swain, and his agile assistants, who use it for their 
 convenience in running about and urging with swishing 
 lash the naked shoulders of the slaves to greater toil 
 and harder exercise. 
 
 Each of the ponderous oars, fifty feet long, thirteen 
 feet of which is inboard, is driven by the exertions of six 
 wretches, whose sinews have become of steel, and whose 
 muscles have become of iron, under the relentless toil 
 of the galley. 
 
 Each individual wretch is chained to his bench, on 
 which he toils till he dies and is thrown overboard, by 
 one iron circlet round the waist, another round an 
 ankle. 
 
 Thus they row, sleep and die; in winter covered, if 
 the night is cold and the galley is at anchor, by a few 
 rugs to keep them from freezing to death. 
 
 Three work sitting, the other half of them nearer the 
 extremity of the spar, toil standing; all pushing the oar 
 forward, its blade out of water, to the length of their 
 tether, and then throwing themselves backward upon 
 the seat, which rebounds with their concussion the 
 work of giants given to the bodies of wretches whose 
 rations are but poor, scant and irregular. 
 
 Moved by this force of agony, La Sylphide, her 
 guns booming, her one hundred and twenty-five free 
 soldiecs and sailors cheering, her officers laughing and 
 saluting, her boatswain's lashes hissing merrily, dashes 
 up to the Quai to receive the Princes De Conti and De 
 Conde", Monseigneur Lass, Financier-General of the 
 Kingdom of France, and their surrounding sycophants 
 and beauties. 
 
 Among them is Hilda de Sabran, more lovely perchance 
 than ever she has been in her life, for the costume of 
 summer suits her graceful, willowy form, and she has 
 been decked by the greatest milliner in France for this 
 fete and pageant. 
 
 She is laughing, happy, triumphant, radiant for is he 
 not here, standing by the side of the gang plank, and 
 offering gallant hand to pass IKT on to the galley's poop ? 
 And she is whispering in his ear: " Raymond, the fete!
 
 272 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 Remember THIS NIGHT NAUGHT SHALL STAND BETWEEN 
 
 THY HEART AND MINE." 
 
 They are all on board. Her delicate hand, decked in 
 lightest glove, is waving D'Arnac adieu, and surrounding 
 her in attitudes of grace are the fair women and brave 
 men of France, laughing and chatting and loving. 
 
 The captain of the galley, the dashing Comte de 
 Chateau Rouge, gives signal to the comite, and cries: 
 "Speed there! Give the slaves the measure! " 
 
 The boatswain's pipe whistles cheerily, and his savage 
 mates, anxious to show their skill, ply- rattan and whip 
 over the bending backs of the sweating formats that 
 struggle with the oars to make the galley fly over the 
 harbor of Marseilles. 
 
 Outside on the blue sea, the vessels from Louisiana, 
 favored by a little wind, are now coming up. So La 
 Sylphide heads straight for the temporary landing 
 place that has been erected and beautified upon the fair 
 shores of the island Pomegue. 
 
 But as they dance over the waves one of the other 
 galleys, which has an ambitious captain, nearly overtak- 
 ing them, the volatile little Marquise de Prie cries, clap- 
 ping tiny hands together: " Oh, we shall have a race! 
 Captain a race a race if you love me! " 
 
 And the Comte de Chateau Rouge, wishing to find 
 favor in the eyes of his fair guests, and proud that La 
 Sylphide is the swiftest in the fleet, commands the comite: 
 " More speed! Tonn..de Dieu! the formats lag to-day!" 
 
 With this the boatswain quickens the stroke, whips 
 are plied on laggard backs, and moans come up from 
 the formats. 
 
 The other galley increases her velocity as well, and is 
 now nearly alongside. 
 
 "O-o-ugh Captain! don't let them beat us! " cries 
 la Sabran, who has grown interested in the affair. 
 " Haven't you the quickest galley of them all ? " 
 
 These words from the favorite of the Regent and the 
 beauty of France excite De Chateau Rouge to greater 
 efforts. He goes forward and orders: "Increase the 
 measure, quick ! " 
 
 Which the boatswain does, //// the stroke is that of a 
 galley in action, when slaves drop dead from horrible 
 exertion.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 273 
 
 The ladies clap their hands and cry joyously: " We're 
 gaining!" "Row, Captain, row!" "We've gloves 
 wagered!" and other little ejaculations of feminine 
 delight. 
 
 De Chateau Rouge says to the comitt again: "Increase 
 the measure!" 
 
 And now the foam is flying from the galley's beak, 
 and the great panting breaths of the struggling formats 
 in the waist, come up in heaves, and the lash is plied 
 by ambitious boatswain's mates, till groans and curses 
 and screams roll up as if from Tartarus. 
 
 " Oh, we're doing beautifully now, Captain ! " cries De 
 Sabran, springing from her seat. "We're gaining 
 we're gaining we're winning!" 
 
 And tripping forward with two light steps, she takes 
 stand on the foremost plank of the poop deck. 
 
 Her pretty little hat sits jauntily upon her delicate 
 head, her blue eyes are blue as the sea on which she 
 looks. Her fair hair is gilded by the sun; her lips are 
 red as the coral that is coming from the Indies. Her 
 dress, light as the gossamer of fairyland, is studded 
 with sparkling jewels. Upon her head blazes the great 
 crescent of the Ottoman, with its lesser star. One 
 perfect foot is perched in silken hose and dainty slip- 
 per upon the low rail, and gathering from it with one 
 deft hand her shimmering skirts, the other waving an 
 excited parasol all lace and ribbons, she stands the 
 goddess of beauty triumphant over Hades. 
 
 And just at this moment the sunbeams light the great 
 crescent of the Ottoman Vizier, with its lesser star, and 
 the diamonds of the Turk gleam and flash in the very 
 faces of the struggling galley slaves. 
 
 Suddenly over the moans of suffering toil and the 
 quick gasps for mighty breath taken in their awful 
 travail, over the swift swish of the flying lash, over the 
 screams of writhing wretches whose shoulders drip with 
 blood comes up one shriek more potent than the rest 
 one scream so shrill, wierd and unearthly that it 
 seems the first shriek of a lost soul let loose in hell. 
 
 With a shudder, for Hilda has feminine nerves, the 
 beauty of the Regent puts both little hands to her ears 
 and runs back to the stern, where she sinks upon a 
 lounge and tries to forget this awful cry, meditating on
 
 274 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 the coming night, and Raymond; though De 
 Guiche is whispering in her fair ears the latest bons mots 
 of Paris, and trying very gallantly to entertain the 
 goddess of the fete. 
 
 This scream is little thought of by the others, 
 ladies or gentlemen, officers or sailors; though the 
 boatswain whispers to one of his mates: "To-day has 
 given us another maniac at the oar! " 
 
 But this is a common occurrence. Creatures go mad 
 upon their benches, and row as madmen till death 
 comes to them, for they are not released. The 
 maniac's strength is even greater than that of the 
 despairing wretches who work beside him. 
 
 So naught answers this awful cry, save that the 
 lashes fall quicker as the comite gives increased speed 
 to the measure that each oar must keep in perfect time 
 and cadence, no matter how quick the stroke, for one 
 oar out of time, the rest become disorganized disabled. 
 Dead men must row when the galley is in motion. 
 
 Monseigneur Lass, the gentlemen and ladies on the 
 poopdeck and in the cabin, are all chatting very 
 merrily. 
 
 The financier remarks to the Prince de Conti: "The 
 scene is beautiful, and the sun is not so very hot! " 
 
 For there is an awning over his head, and he is in 
 quite an affable humor. 
 
 Even now they are rowing past the vessels of the 
 Mississippi fleet. 
 
 The ladies clap their hands as these sail past them, 
 making quite a theatrical effect, for their captains have 
 had instructions, and parrots are perched upon their 
 rigging, and monkeys play among the shrouds, and 
 there are Indians in feathers, wampum, and war paint, 
 dancing on their decks; and strange animals from the 
 New World call forth cries of astonishment and admira- 
 tion from the wondering lips of lookers on. 
 
 One vessel has its rigging tufted with the cotton of 
 the new colony, and another her mastheads surrounded 
 with the sugar cane of Louisiana. 
 
 The sailors are cheering, and the pageant looks very 
 bright, beautiful, and happy, as La Sylphide, after 
 inspecting the fleet, dashes for the pretty isle of 
 Pomegue.
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 275 
 
 But now the wind fails the ships, and the galleys, 
 after delivering the guests at the island, dash out, take 
 these great vessels in tow, and the slaves muse again 
 toil at the oar, for their day's work is as merciless and 
 hard as the fete is successful and grand. 
 
 So the vessels swinging into the harbor, past the Fort 
 St. John, come up to the Quai to be received by 
 Raymond d'Arnac. There is great cheering from the 
 crowd, for part of the cargo of one of the ships is gold 
 and silver bullion, which did not come from Louisiana, 
 though the throng do not know it, and, perchance, was 
 taken on board when the vessel stopped at Cuba the 
 products of mines in Mexico or Peru. 
 
 The sacks of coffee that they display to eager sight- 
 seers probably come from the Brazils, though all is 
 credited to this new land that is to make France rich, 
 and the India Company's stock goes very high in the 
 financial firmament. 
 
 Though D'Arnac has a good deal to do, he is General 
 Commandant of the Port of Marseilles, and promptly 
 getting through his more important duties, details 
 the rest to subordinates. 
 
 Consequently about seven in the evening, as the great 
 band of musicians, brought from Paris for the occasion, 
 are playing the sweetest melodies of the ballet 
 entitled "The Loves of Jupiter," Raymond arrives, on 
 one of the galleys plying between the Quai of 
 Marseilles and the Isle Pomegue, at the fete of 
 Monseigneur Lass. 
 
 Not having had anything to eat since the morning, he 
 makes a hasty but delightful supper in one of the 
 pavilions of refreshment. 
 
 The end of the meal is even more pleasant than its 
 beginning, for, with the instinct of love, Hilda de 
 Sabran has found him, and with fluttering eyes and 
 blushing cheeks, has seated herself at his side, whisper- 
 ing: " At last you are here! " 
 
 Then the young man grows blushing also, for she has 
 purred in his ear: " Raymond, my love! " 
 
 Perchance as he looks in her eyes, the blue eyes of 
 another woman, who is at this moment making the 
 Francais ring with plaudits at her piquant graces and 
 fascinating emotions, on the stage of that great
 
 276 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 theatre, come to him but these eyes he looks upon are 
 the nearest. 
 
 But now the present goddess goes to plying her arts 
 of fascination and becomes curiously trembling and 
 bashful, which makes her doubly enchanting, as she 
 pathetically questions: "You have forgiven me?" 
 
 " Forgiven YOU ? " 
 
 " Yes, " she whispers, " that awful note received by 
 O'Brien Dillon. You knew; in your heart of hearts 
 you must have known it was addressed to YOU. " 
 
 "Was it for ME ? " asks Raymond, who likes to hear 
 her supplicate, though he is very well aware she tells the 
 truth. Then he gives a little sigh, not altogether of 
 disappointment, for he is thinking of his lost comrade. 
 
 "Oh, cruel one!" falters Hilda, who, gazing on her 
 handsome companion, now loves him with her very 
 soul for the present. Then she breaks hoarsely forth : 
 "Who changed the direction of that note? What 
 traitor kept us apart and made you doubt me ? " 
 
 " I have thought of the matter many times," replies 
 D'Arnac, "but I cannot guess." 
 
 "Well, I can! " she mutters savagely. 
 
 "Who do you think?" 
 
 " Your Cousin Charlie." 
 
 "Impossible! Why do you think that?" 
 
 "Because Apollo, my negro page, confessed to my 
 riding whip that he had given that letter I wrote you, 
 my heart in each pen stroke, to a gentleman ; and 
 compelled by me he pointed out Monsieur de Moncrief 
 as the man." 
 
 "What reason could he have ? " 
 
 "That I do not know, but some day "whispers 
 Hilda, and her eyes say that "some day " will not be a 
 pleasant one to Charles de Moncrief. But suddenly, as 
 if afraid of her own rage, she turns the conversation, 
 and her glance grows tender as her words as she 
 murmurs: "To-night let us forget everything but 
 ourselves! you and I my Raymond." 
 
 " Yes all but ourselves. You tyrant of my heart," 
 returns D'Arnac, who is romantic now, as what man 
 would not be with supreme beauty by his side that 
 this night will be HIS VERY OWN! the blue waves of the 
 Mediterranean sighing at their feet the soft moon
 
 A PRINCESS til I'AKIS. 277 
 
 lighting the eyes of his adored the tender music of Lulli 
 giving cadence to their heart beats. 
 
 At this moment even the memry of O'Brien Dillon 
 stands not between. Why should the dead destroy a 
 living love ? 
 
 Into this reverie Hilda breaks with happy laugh she 
 whispers: "We must not linger here too long." 
 
 "Why not ?" 
 
 "Uncle Johnny!" replies the beauty, tapping her 
 little foot playfully. " Beware of Uncle Johnny!" 
 
 "You dance this evening?" whispers Raymond, 
 looking at his prize, who is now gleaming under the 
 blazing lights of the parillion de bal. 
 
 " With YOU, if you wish." 
 
 "Come !" 
 
 The music is still playing, the minuet is being danced, 
 and no more graceful couple move over the smooth 
 floor, and no happier faces are under its bright lights, 
 than that of Raymond d'Arnac and Hilda de Sabran, 
 for one has thrown away conscience, and the other 
 has no conscience to throw away and both mean to be 
 very happy in the love that lights their eyes this evening. 
 
 "BUT ! " 
 
 This "but" is Monseigneur Lass. 
 
 Uncle Johnny, notwithstanding he has many engage- 
 ments with fair women for the dance, and many bits of 
 diplomatic social intercourse to make his standing 
 stronger with the nobility, sees a good deal of what is 
 going on. 
 
 And taking his opportunity, he gets chance word 
 with Raymond, welcoming him to his fete, but saying 
 to him: "My dear young officer, I am sorry to put an 
 end to your pleasure this evening, especially as I am 
 your host, but there is a meeting at the Prefecture 
 to-night, in the city. The Regent gave me this 
 address," he produces a paper, "charging me to 
 request the officer in command, as his representative, 
 to read it to the people of Marseilles. It speaks 
 chiefly of the new fortifications that are to be 
 erected to make the city stronger, as it is now to 
 become such a great commercial port. It is especially 
 appropriate for you, as general of the garrison, to 
 read it. I know that was his Highness' intention when
 
 278 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 he gave it to me at Paris. The meeting takes place at 
 nine o'clock. You will have plenty of time." 
 
 Under these circumstances, all Raymond can do is to 
 accept the commission, though he does so with by no 
 "means the best grace. 
 
 But as he is going Hilda is beside him. She says: 
 " I saw my Uncle Johnny say something to you. It 
 was some commission that requires you to return to the 
 city ? " 
 
 "Yes! Confound his tricky soul," mutters D'Arna5 
 in the agony of awful disappointment, gazing upon the 
 fair being of whom he is despoiled. 
 
 "Oh, I guessed as much. But we may balk Uncle 
 Johnny after all. What is your duty in Marseilles ? " 
 
 Then Raymond telling her of the commission given to 
 him, she whispers: "The meeting takes place at nine. It 
 will be ended by ten. At eleven o'clock the ball will still 
 be going on. By that time the revelry will be at its height, 
 and Bacchus and Venus reign supreme. The others will 
 be too occupied in themselves to miss my presence ! If 
 you love me, as I adore you, my Raymond," she goes 
 on with entreating eyes, "meet me in front of pavilion 
 number five at eleven o'clock. That one the one with 
 the blue silk hangings. Remember the time is vital. 
 Be sure the place." 
 
 " At eleven o'clock by that pavilion our hearts beat 
 together," answers D'Arnac, his soul aflame. Then 
 he whispers words into the shell she calls her ear 
 that make her very happy, but make her blush and run 
 away. 
 
 And Raymond, taking one of the galleys that is still 
 plying between the island and Marseilles, arrives at the 
 Prefecture in time, and there makes a very glum and 
 surly representative of complaisant royalty to the good 
 citizens of the town, reading the Regent's letter in a 
 haughty, hard and hasty voice, and not caring very 
 much whether any of it is understood. 
 
 At last this is over, and he flies down to the Quai to 
 utter the imprecations of disappointed eagerness. 
 
 Not one of the galleys is there. They are all at the 
 Isle Pomegue. 
 
 How to get back to the island in time, where the 
 woman he longs for is awaiting him!
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 279 
 
 " If I disappoint her now, she will never forgive me, " 
 he moans, scanning with anxious eyes the port. 
 
 Suddenly hope springs up in him again. La Sylphide 
 is coming into the basin with sturdy strokes, for fatigue 
 is not permitted to interfere with its human machinery. 
 
 As soon as she puts off her passengers, among whom 
 is the Prince de Conti, who has some engagement in 
 town, Raymond steps aboard. 
 
 The Captain de Chateau Rouge is at the fete on the 
 island, his Lieutenant Polignac in command, a man 
 who is more of the sailor than the courtier. 
 
 D'Arnac says hurriedly to him: "Drive the galley 
 back to la Pomegue as fast as possible! " 
 
 " Morbleu ! " dissents the tar, "we were about to drop 
 anchor. We have rowed from six o'clock this morning 
 and now it is ten at night, towing vessels and taking 
 passengers. The labor has been enormous, two or three 
 of the formats have died. Not one of them has had a bite 
 to eat. They have been toiling continuously." 
 
 " I must go back to the island it is imperative!" 
 returns D'Arnac. 
 
 What are galley slaves to him, to delay his assignation 
 with impatient beauty. 
 
 "Give the orders, Monsieur Lieutenant," he says, 
 "and to-morrow afternoon, if you will dine with me, I 
 will try to recompense you for your trouble by a very 
 excellent meal! " 
 
 "Oh, we officers have had plenty to eat," laughs 
 Polignac. "Besides, if we anchor at the island, De 
 Chateau Rouge can come on board in the morning, and 
 1 will have an hour or two at the dance to-night." He 
 orders : ' ' Coinite '.' give the measure. " " Quartermaster, 
 head for la Pomegue once more! " 
 
 "Tonii .d; Dieu .' " growls the boatswain, "how many 
 slaves will live with another five miles to their credit and 
 nothing to eat ? " 
 
 " Blow \.\\e formats .' Give them the measure quick! " 
 answers Polignac. 
 
 This is done; the pipe rings out again, and the 
 boatswain's mates have now double lashing to do, 
 for the slaves arc so faint from fatigiu-. 
 
 As they pass the Fort St. John, Raymond looks at 
 his watch.
 
 280 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 He has but half an hour, and falters to Polignac: 
 "M0n Dieu ! I shall be late! " 
 
 " You are in a hurry ? " 
 
 " Very much! I must get there at eleven." 
 
 "Order the comite to quicken the measure!" cries 
 the lieutenant, anxious to please the general com- 
 manding. 
 
 Again ihe slaves increase their toil, and now many of 
 them commence to lag and droop under the heartbreak- 
 ing," unceasing toil of all that long, burning day. 
 
 During its hours no wretch of them has tasted food. 
 But the plying lash is on them. They must row on 
 or die, or both. 
 
 The moon coming up, sheds a soft radiance upon this 
 scene; on the toiling flesh and blood below, on the 
 officers on watch, on eager Comte d'Arnac, who sits 
 on the poop staying his impetuosity by a friendly pipe 
 and Virginia tobacco, and gazing at the far-off glimmer- 
 ing lights across the sea, that tell where she is 
 waiting. 
 
 As the oars swish to and fro unceasingly, the groans 
 of their wretched rowers come up into the soft air of 
 night, and their haggard faces, and bare, sinewy arms, 
 gleam and flash under the moonlight. 
 
 In one of these sighs that come up to Heaven, part 
 of despair, part of exertion, Raymond thinks he hears, 
 mingled'with its breath, one little word, " Together!" 
 
 It may be but a groan. 
 
 At first he does not heed it, and goes smoking on. 
 
 Then, as the oars flash once again in the moonlight, 
 he hears floating up on the sigh of the slaves, 
 " TOGETHER! " 
 
 Something in the tone startles him. His pipe drops 
 to the deck. 
 
 The boatswain and some of the sailors are now going 
 about putting between open, panting lips, as they move 
 in the cadence of the swing, pieces of bread moistened 
 with sour wine; a custom not born of humanity, but 
 simply of convenience. If too many slaves die, the 
 galley is disabled. 
 
 And still at each swing of the oar, and each gasping 
 sigh of the slaves, there floats up to D'Arnac's astonished 
 ears, "TOGETHER! "
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 281 
 
 He springs to the COM its and cries: " Some bread and 
 wine quick I'll help you!" 
 
 Then he passes tremblingly along the first bank 
 of oars. 
 
 He finds not what he seeks, but shivers as he looks, 
 for it is louder now and nearer this word of the night 
 that takes him back to Flanders and battle, and puts 
 a kind of desperate hope within him. 
 
 Thus coming to the second bank, before the sturdiest 
 of its crew, who pulls untired, standing up with each 
 stroke, and swinging back with a crash upon the bench, 
 he sees a haggard face, lighted by eyes that gleam with 
 what appears insanity, but is hope ! 
 
 As Raymond presses the moistened bread upon 
 this wretches' tongue that hangs out black and 
 parched between the panting lips, tones come to him 
 that make him start with shock and horror with 
 pity and amaze with agony and joy for 
 it whispers: "TOGETHER! OH, GOD OF HEAVEN! 
 SAVE ME ! " 
 
 With one bound, D'Arnac is on the poop, screaming: 
 " Stop rowing! For God's sake, stop!" 
 
 "What do you mean? You'll miss your appointment. " 
 
 " Stop rowing!" 
 
 " Is there a bark ahead of us? " 
 
 "Stop rowing! I order it I, Commandant of the 
 Port! STOP ROWING!" 
 
 His words make the officers jump! The vessel stops. 
 
 "Take number one of the second oar out of his 
 chains! " 
 
 "A galley slave A/orfat?" 
 
 "Quick! What's one more galley slave to you? 
 You have three hundred! I need one for shore duty at 
 the hospital for infectious diseases. The last one died 
 to-day. Take number one of the second oar out of 
 the irons! " 
 
 " But what the devil will I say to the captain ? I h '- 
 the strongest wretch in the boat!" replies Polignac. 
 
 " I'll explain to Chateau Rouge. BESIDES, I 
 
 ORDER IT! " 
 
 ' ' Then it must be done ! Boatswain, order the armorer 
 knock off the irons on number one of the second oar! ' 
 directs Polignac.
 
 282 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 
 
 Even while they are doing it, O'Brien Dillon, no more 
 the dashing soldier of fortune, but a wretch broken by 
 toil, staggering and faint, is in the arms of his friend, 
 and as the shackles fall from him, he is crying like a 
 child and wringing his hands, and panting. 
 
 As he is lifted to the poop, and clothes thrown over 
 his nakedness-, he is chattering as one insane : ' ' I didn't 
 dare to cry my name to you if you had not heard 
 to-morrow morning the bastinado!" Then he shrieks 
 out: " I heard her voice they called her ' LaSabran.' 
 Now I know why they made me a galley slave." 
 
 "Who did this awful thing ? " shudders Raymond. 
 
 " The whole gang of them, your Cousin Charlie, the 
 Procureur du Roy." 
 
 " Impossible ! For what crime ? " gasps D'Arnac. 
 
 " For being a wizard ! Lanty's infernal shot of the 
 billiard table! " moans Dillon. " They swore I had the 
 black art. " 
 
 And he goes into wild imprecations on such high 
 names that D'Arnac fears he will be overheard and gets 
 him into the cabin. 
 
 Then, for the galley is near the island, Raymond 
 says to Polignac: "Stop rowing! Back to the 
 harbor ! " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " To get a thousand crowns at my office to-morrow 
 morning," whispers D'Arnac, who sees he must have the 
 lieutenant's aid. 
 
 "Good!" replies that officer, and the vessel swings 
 round on water illumined by the feu de joie right in the 
 lights of the festival, the music of which comes faintly 
 over the waves in happy cadence, and there are shouts of 
 ' ' A health to the King and Monseigneur Lass ! " 
 
 At this, on the deck of the galley a half crazed 
 creature who has just come back from hades, screams: 
 "I know him my Uncle Johnny I know her the 
 mistress of the Regent the De Sabran ! It was for this 
 they have made me the wretch I am ! High though they 
 are, God help them both when the galley slave takes the 
 revenge of a devil that is all they have left him in life! " 
 
 Next he moans: " Let me sleep! Raymond let me 
 sleep but for God's sake don't let me DREAM ; for if I 
 dream I shall DREAM I am again at the oar and in
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS. 2X3 
 
 hell ! " then goes into a slumber that is almost as strong 
 as death itself. 
 
 So D'Arnac sits sighing over weeping over this 
 man, whom other men have degraded to the brute. 
 
 And this man's wife standingdraping about her beauty 
 the folds of the blue curtains of the pavilion number 
 five of Monseigneur Lass' fete of triumph, waits waits 
 till even morn has come again, for a lover who does not 
 return, and listens for a voice she pants for, yet never 
 hears. And finally, turning to the rising sun eyes that 
 burn with disappointed longing and unquenched desire, 
 mutters: : ' It is laQuinault! He has remembered her, 
 he has forgotten me. She shall repent in tears and 
 blood the insult this night for love of her, Raymond 
 my Raymond has put upon the Princess of Paris! " 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 THE SEQUEL TO THIS NOVEL IS 
 
 THE KING'S STOCKBROKER
 
 JUST OUT 
 
 A Complication 
 in Hearts 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
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 BY 
 
 GILBERT PARKER, 
 
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 ANOTHER GREAT SUCCESS. 
 
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 MRS. FALCHION. 
 
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 A COMPLICATION IN HEARTS 
 
 BY EDMUND PENDLETON. 
 
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